Fire Emblem Fates: Home
by nikhedonia
Summary: Fates Self Insert. An unfit, unintelligent young man gets thrown into the world of Fire Emblem Fates. He must try to stay alive while he finds his way home... But will the war claim more from him than his personal sanctuary? Will he find a new home in this world? Will he finally be happy?
1. Prologue

Stifling another yawn, my head collapsed against the double-stacked pillows. One of my hands – my right – bent at a nearly unnatural angle around to drop the Nintendo 3DS system I had been playing onto the chair by the bed. With my eyes closed, I could only imagine gentle blue light pulsating slightly – an indication that the device was not turned off, but merely resting. It would wait until the morning, when I would take it up to play the game again...

Not that I would likely be allowed. My facial muscles contorted into a frown, the bed beneath me suddenly foreign and uncomfortable. The air in the room around me suddenly oppressive and unfamiliar. This wasn't my room, and I was painfully aware of it. I didn't have a room to call my own, nor a house anymore. My old room... My sanctuary... It was lost to me now.

It had been about a month now. I didn't count the days, the numbered system of dates did that for me. Every new day seemed the same, but I tried to hold fast to the hope that each day would be another grand opportunity to actually find a house to call my own.

Well, my mum's house, but my home... Even at 21, I was still living with my mother. Not that I really minded. She was a good mother to me, and I loved her dearly. But she seemed reluctant to leave this temporary abode.

It had started last year. Well, not really – the problem had started years ago really, when my parents had first announced they were splitting up. My sister and I had been devastated and, perhaps simply because he wore his heart on his sleeve more, we had sided with our father. We blamed mother for the fact that our father was no longer living with us, and those weekend visits to his dingy little house or going with him to the cinema had always drove home the harsh reality of the situation.

Then, years later, during one of those visits, my older sister suddenly cut off contact with him. Visits to his house became less frequent, and then came that fateful day.

I still remember it, though I wish I didn't.

It was January. I know because I hadn't heard anything from my father for over a month by then, and I was worried. It wasn't like him. Christmas had come and gone with no word from him, and no news about that film I had wanted to watch with him at the cinema. But on that day, when I got home, I was suddenly pleased to see a letter waiting for me.

It was from dad, but my pleasure quickly turned to shock as I opened that letter. The first word I had seen, a confusing word in the middle of the page summed it all up.

My mother got home from work to find me crying on the floor, the traitorous letter in my hands.

For days and weeks... And still now, it's something so hard to believe.

Exams came and went. I performed nowhere nearly as good as anybody had expected, but I still went to university to study game design as I had _always_ wanted. Never mind that it wasn't the university I had wanted to go. Never mind that letter from father or the dreams I had about them that left me crying and missing lessons. Never mind the fact that suddenly I was on my own in a new city, my friends slowly drifting away. Never mind my realisation that I was still in love with my ex-girlfriend – who was now the only friend I had left, but was now married. Never mind my lack of confidence in my abilities which led to more missed lessons.

Never mind that in the meantime, my mother revealed she would have to sell our house.

And that leads to today. I finally withdrew from university after two years – mental health reasons, mainly. I was back in my sanctuary. My home... That I would soon have to part with.

The place I had lived for 21 years. The place where my cat, whom I had loved like a younger sister had lived too, until she died before I went to university. The only place I felt safe anymore.

The "For Sale" sign went up, and we looked fervently for a new house, visiting estate agents, browsing the internet... All the time I tried to see the positives in it...

My sister had moved out by this point, going to live and start a family with her fiancé. Of course she'd take the other cat with her. She did "belong" to her, after all.

Still, an offer was made on our house. A nice, though young, family. They needed to move in, though we still hadn't found a house.

Then we did. It was nice, only slightly smaller, and I would have a spacious attic bedroom. I was actually excited by something other than games or fictional worlds for the first time in a while. We went to look at it, my mother and I. My mother's boyfriend came too. They had met at a dancing session, where they go every Monday, Friday and Saturday night. He was an architect or something, though retired.

While my mother and I admired the house, he came to his own conclusions about it. He pointed out all of the work that needed to be done: this floor, those windows, that entire wall.

Mother didn't buy that house, but we still needed to move out. Now, we're living in his house.

I rolled over in my mother's boyfriend's spare bed again, my frown slowly fading away as I forced my thoughts back to the wonderful fictional worlds that dwelled within games.

Of course, when I woke up, those worlds would suddenly become less fictional.

 **Author's Note: This is pretty much just an exercise in writing, with me writing down whatever comes to my mind while I'm trying to nod off to sleep. I'm mainly writing this to entertain myself, and a few of my friends, but I hope this story can be enjoyed by everyone.**

 **Anyway, this was a short prologue just to introduce my mopey self. The rest of the chapters** **should** **will be longer.**


	2. Field

Chapter One: Field

I had never truly experienced a lucid dream. I'd tried, of course. Looked up how to do it many times, but never succeeded. Sometimes, I would realise that the situation I was in was just too surreal, but manipulating the environment and people in my dreams to do as I wished never worked out well. Push too hard and I would end up waking up with very few memories of what, if anything, I had accomplished. But a touch too soft and nothing would happen.

To say that I had never managed to exert my influence in my dreams was technically not true, but those results were _not_ what I ever intended. Monsters. Giant, sharp toothed faces with blood red eyes. Darkness all around me. The people who had been in my dream, be they schoolmates from long ago, or my beloved mother... They would turn into those things. Creatures determined to rip my face off.

So, upon waking up here, in what was most decidedly _not_ my home, nor even George's, my first reaction was that I was in a dream, and having realised that, I would likely wake any moment now...

Any moment now.

Any... Moment?

But the world did not shift.

It's funny, isn't it? I had spent my entire life wanting to be somewhere else. Wanting to have a great adventure in mysterious worlds, away from the boredom of reality. And yet now it had happened, it had taken me a long time to realise that those idle fantasies had come true.

Hilarious. Except I wasn't laughing.

At that moment, as it happened when I was overwhelmed with fear, confusion, anxiety, I had curled my body into a ball, gasping for air suddenly, as though my lungs had ceased to work, a cold clamminess on my forehead. My heart smashed itself against my ribcage dangerously...

As was the norm when this happened, my brain suddenly realised that curling into a ball was not conducive to healthy breathing. Spread out, I began the breathing exercises I had been taught to do, and slowly, my body returned to a more normal status.

Anxiety attacks were a relatively new addition to my life. My first one had been about a year ago. Fortunately, this one had been relatively mild. Surprising, given the circumstances.

Now, with a clearer mind, I set about examining this odd world I was in. Dream or reality, that didn't matter right now. Just like every day of life, I would try to play along and roll with the punches until I couldn't take it anymore.

I was in a field. The grass was short, but non-uniform. It was more like the grass couldn't grow any more, and it didn't have the smell of mown grass. The field itself wasn't very big, barely the length of two football pitches, and was bordered by a rugged mountainous area to my rear and due left, and a thin series of trees on the other two sides.

The sky was a wispy white, the clouds thick enough to threaten a downpour, but not dark enough to actually deliver. Not a trace of blue or sun, only clouds giving the entire place a shaded and oddly misty looking appearance.

I sat for some time, deliberating on what to do. The logical course of action would be to wake up at some point. This meant I could explore, and, on the off-chance that this wasn't a dream, perhaps I could find my way back to...

I shook my head. It didn't matter. Time to move.

...

I consider myself a large person, in most cases. Average height, with a layer of baby-fat-turned-actual-fat that boosted my size from broad shouldered to hefty.

My fat was largely a case, most likely, of over eating. I have a very large appetite, and I always have. Of course, I did exercise. My main method of getting place to place was walking, and I did enjoy swimming. Given the choice, I would much rather sit and play a video game than go for a walk, but I still enjoyed it.

That's why I was able to walk the relatively short distance to the edge of the thin forest with no real issues.

Still, I suddenly found myself unwilling to go any further. The forest just seemed too... Oppressive.

No, perhaps that wasn't the right word. All I knew is that I suddenly had another feeling of panic almost overtake me.

Feeling as though I was being watched, my feet found themselves stepping backwards, as though my body was being controlled by someone that didn't want to be anywhere near these trees.

As I backed up, they moved. A number of things – shimmering purple abominations. They looked like the things from my nightmares – those failed lucid dreams, yet they weren't lunging for me. They shimmered a deep, ethereal purple instead of the crimson I was used to, but the odd light contorted their appearances and obscured their faces in familiar ways.

I backed away, more quickly now, but the humanoid shapes in the trees moved no further. Were they protecting the forest?

Taking a chance, I turned, only to find a horde of the creatures silently approaching from behind. In the mist of the plains, away from the shade provided by the trees, they were both easier and harder to see. Only their outlines were visible here, the rest of their bodies seeming almost see-through. It was like looking through water, the way the hills and mountains were distorted. Yet, their shapes were most definitely humanoid, carrying...

Swords, axes, lances, bows... Even in their translucency, I could see the sharp edges on those weapons... And why were they targeting me with them?

I backed up again, only to hear the shuffling in the trees. Right. I was surrounded.

Taking a chance then, I spoke, my voice unsteady in my lack of confidence, "Um, h-hello, I-"

Immediately, as though my voice had been their cue to speak, they lunged. A sword pierced my gut, and what must have been a dozen arrows pierced my face. All this, in less than a second, and there was no chance to register the pain.

Only... Nothingness.

 **Author's Note: Welp, good going, me. Already dead. Guess the story's over, huh?**


	3. Candles

Chapter Two: Candles

I hated waking up. Sleep was so pleasant, and I would always much rather face the risk of another nightmare to the waking hell that reality.

I simply wasn't a morning person. When I finally did wake, my body simply unable to go back to sleep, I would still lay in my bed. My eyes would remain closed, for the most part, my mind still trying to lose itself in the dream world, even as the memories flitted away.

The memories of my dreams would be replaced then, by the helplessness I always felt and the agonising reality of my life. My eyes would snap open then, some tiny part of my brain trying to distract myself by counting the lines on the ceiling or the corners of the room.

Steadily though, those distractions would seem to fade into the very thoughts I had been struggling to avoid. It would all come rushing back, until my mind settled on one particular sensation – hunger.

Food, oddly, was often an anchor to me. The tastier the food, the greater the anchor. It would distract me, stopping me from focusing on anything else, so I would get up and wearily make my way to break the fast.

Usually that would happen, but this morning, or afternoon, perhaps even evening – I could never be sure of when I would naturally wake – something was different.

I stared at the ceiling of the room, as usual, and found it wasn't one I recognised. It was grey, where every ceiling I remember waking to had been a creamy off-white, and stone, not plaster or paint. There was no light hanging from the ceiling, only occasional gentle licks of reds and yellows.

The air was damp, but smelled lightly of smokes and perfumes – lilac or lavender, a flowery smell. The room was only lit by a few candles and small incense sticks, making shadows leap over the entirety of the small, stone room. There were no corners for the light to cover – the room more round than square, and the only furnishings were a small wooden stool sat by a patch of the wall surrounded by cracks, and the bed on which I laid.

Calling it a bed was generous. It was a bare, brown mattress, rounded and set on the ground. It was thin and worn, and patches of red, dried into it, stank of blood.

I sat up, examining the room, then suddenly realised I was naked. My chest, lightly covered in hair, had been uncovered, and even my small manhood had not been provided with the decency of a cloth covering. I was alone, fortunately, but I wondered at what had happened, and where I was.

The last I remembered was that odd dream about the strange field, where I had been attacked by the ominous people from my nightmares. Now, I was alone in a cave with no way out. Clearly another dream then?

Suddenly I felt claustrophobia grip me. I had never experienced anything like it, except when I had panic attacks, and... Was that one coming now?

I began the deep breathing exercises I had been taught, but suddenly stopped, looking at the candles.

I was in a cave, seemingly sealed, and my only lights were candles. Fire consumed Oxygen, didn't it? How much was there left in this room then?

I tried to calm, determined to take breaths as light as I could. I needed to get out, and I needed to do it while there was still enough air. But how?

My eyes flickered, unbidden, to that patch of wall framed by cracks. If anything, that must be, or have been, the door.

I stood, feeling the coarse cave floor beneath my small feet, and walked steadily to that wall. Reaching my arms out, I gently pushed against it, but felt no movement. I pushed harder, and harder, pushing at the stone which refused to budge. Of course. I had never been too strong, but in this instance, I was desperate. I pushed with all my body, my hands turning raw from sheer pressure, and I feared a bone or two snapping in the strain.

I moved away to change tactics. Prising my short fingers into the cracks in the wall, now pulling desperately at the stone. Still no movement.

I gave up. I was unlikely to move the stone anyway. I had never been that strong...

I looked back to the candles, and honestly worried. Some of the candles – the smaller ones - had gone down by about a quarter since I had last looked. How much more light did I have? No, how much more air did I have left?

Not enough.

"Help!" I croaked, my voice hoarse and the sound escaping from my lips without my awareness.

I cleared my throat a few times, raising a hand covered in rock dust to massage at my Adam's apple.

"Help!" I called out, more loudly, though my throat now ached slightly. "Help!"

I don't know how long I continued, but by the time I stopped to rest, those smaller candles that were about 15cm had dwindled to measly stumps. I turned back to the mattress and sat on it, gazing into the flame.

Even now, I still believed I was in a dream of some kind, but what sort of awful dream was this? My fingers traced over my chest and stomach. There was no scar, no marks. There was no trace of any wounds from that field... That had surely been a dream then.

My stomach rumbled then, vibrating against my prodding fingers, and despite myself, a smile appeared on my face.

I shook it away, and selected most of the longer candles and all of the shorter ones. I arranged them into a row, before blowing the selected candles out. The room grew dim, and I could barely see beyond my fingers; even those were bathed in a dull orange.

Lying there on the tattered makeshift bed, I silently watched one of the remaining flames. It danced in the darkness, the glow surrounding the flame looking like a halo ebbing and pulsing mute. The wick was invisible, making the flame appear to float in the air just above the candle. Its light heat caused beads of wax to form and trickle slowly, unsteadily down the rough edges of the candles.

It was less a cylindrical shape, I finally realised, more a crude stick of wax set ablaze. Whether that was from design or the passage of time was unknown to me.

Eventually, the flame reached the base of the candle, and the flame seemed to lap hungrily at the last few drops of wax on the small stone plate it occupied. I could hear it, a gentle rhythmic tapping. One, two, one, two. A grunt, the rustlings of bodies and cloths.

No. That wasn't the candle. I shot up, then set about relighting most, but not all, of the candles using the dying embers of others. I hurried towards what I had thought the door, and heard them clearer.

People! They were talking, in hushed and muffled voices, and their feet slapped gently against a stone floor outside. Were they friendly? Would they let me out? And would they even hear me? I had to try!

"Help!" I shouted, and almost immediately the sounds from outside ceased. Were they still there?

"Help!" I called again, loud as I could dare, and loud as I could. "Help me!"

I paused to hear a hushed conversation, then more shuffling. Were they ignoring me?

My answer came with a terrible noise, like a great boulder being pushed over more rocks. No, not pushed, I realised, watching in awe as that cracked wall slid away, haltingly.

An old man, his face pruned and grey hairs wispy thin on his head hurried through the gap, as soon as it was big enough. He moved swiftly, though stiffly, and his clothes were a filthy brown dress, hanging from his thin frame as though it barely touched his skin. It went down to his ankles, letting his bare, bony feet protrude.

I looked at his face, as he looked at mine. His eyes seemed cold and dead, though his furrowed brows shot up upon seeing me, and under his crooked nose, thin, quivering lips parted slightly, revealing that most of his teeth were gone, and those that remained were a brownish yellow.

His eyes seemed to flicker to my torso, where I knew I had been stabbed in that dream-field. It was then I suddenly remembered my lack of clothes, and hurried my hands to cover my indecency.

The old man chuckled then, his voice rasping and whistling through his lack of teeth.

"Be a' ease," he said, his mouth flicking spit everywhere as he spoke, "Yer alive, an' no' in yer grave n'more."

 **Author's Note: Oh, so the train's still running. Hope you're enjoying this wreckage so far.**


	4. Wounded

Chapter Three: Wounded

The old man was not alone, and now, neither was I.

His acquaintance was a great beast of a man, his neck and legs hunched awkwardly even in the hall. If the old man, who stood with a bent back, had held me up, perhaps I could have seen the top of the huge man's head, but even then...

His arms were as thick as my overweight hips, and his legs were covered in a rough hide, woven together to resemble plating, making him look like he had sprouted two tree trunks from his waist. His chest was bare, and the parts that weren't covered in bright, deep scars were rippling with muscle. He was like one of those huge wrestling stars, or body builders that pulled trains and other amazing feats. I briefly wondered at how any weapon had ever managed to leave such marks on him.

Then there was his head. His jaw was square, and his eyes huge and weary, more emotionless than the old man, but somehow full of a suppressed rage. He did not stare, instead his eyes and head slowly turned, as though he were constantly expecting somebody to give him another scar. Whenever he blinked, I swear I could hear a tiny thud, like something falling in the distance.

He had wordlessly passed me a cloth of some sort – a robe like the old man wore, which I thanked him for and promptly put on – which was when I noticed his largest scar.

It was on his head, like a huge chunk of the top back of his head had been ripped off, and hastily sewn back on. It was ghastly, like something I would see in a horror movie (though I always hated watching those). I wanted to turn away, to not have to look at it, but then he was gone.

He turned away from me, his hideous scarring less visible at his height, then knelt to pick up a thick bundle of rags. He glanced at the old man, who nodded at him, and the behemoth carried the lump into the room from which I had come.

The old man turned back to me when we were alone, then bade me follow.

"C'mon, I wager ye'll be 'ungry an' in nee' o' food, af'er yer miracle 'covery."

I followed him through the hall, past many other great stone walls. I saw that each boulder seemed to have grips for the giant to hold, and that our way was lit by the seemingly random and scarce spacing of torches along the wall, none of them more than burning lumps of wood shoved into holes in the walls.

"W-where am I?" I finally asked, having wondered on which question of many to ask first. I took to the old man's pace easily, actually wishing he would, or could, go faster.

"A grave yard," the old man said. "Must've been some mis'ake in pronouncin' ye dead, seein' as ye were buried, an' all. Still, yer out now."

"But..." I began. The response hadn't really answered my question, but I had so many more questions to ask. "Who are you?"

"Me? Nothin' n'more. I was the undertaker, 'fore I got too old. Ye can call me Dom, though."

"Dom..." I repeated.

"Aye, 's short for Domingo, an' wha' 'bout you? The scouts who brough' you said you weren' one o' theirs."

"I'm... Derek," I told him. I had changed my name after the incident with my father, and even over three years later, I was still adjusting.

Domingo chewed on the name thoughtfully, "Derek... That don' sound like yer from round 'ere. Where ya from?"

"I'm..." I paused. How specific did I have to be? I didn't even know where I was. "Sorry, but... Where is this?"

We stepped into an average sized room, larger than the one I had left, anyway. A table stood in the centre of the room; an old, oak table, with a simple rustic touch. Five chairs sat around it, though only two had backs, and one of those without rested unsteadily on three legs.

A woman sat on one of the backed chairs, her brown hair bedraggled and unwashed, with matching bloodstained brown robes. She was hungrily tearing into what appeared to be a bread roll from the otherwise empty wooden plate in front of her.

She didn't react to our entry, even as the old man fell into the other backed chair. He gestured to me, and I took one of the stools beside him, across from the woman.

Domingo spread his arms, "This is wha's lef' o' mighty Valla, o' course." The woman looked up, suddenly curious, then she saw me. I paid her little mind. Why did that sound familiar?

"You're...!" she began, shock and panic equal on her face, but Domingo interrupted her.

"Ye buried this'n too soon, Zama."

The woman, Zama, shook her head. "No! No, he was dead." She dropped what looked to be the last mouthful of bread to point at me accusingly. "You were dead!"

I looked at her properly, and saw that she carried a heavy wooden cane at her side, a glowing orb atop it.

"Clearly no'!" Domingo retorted hotly. "'E would've been dead 'ad 'e starved though!"

He grabbed her last bite of bread at that, and passed it to me. I was too distracted by Zama's reply to take it, though. He shrugged and ate it himself.

"He was stabbed in the chest multiple times – his stomach was ruptured, his heart had stopped. He had multiple arrow wounds to the face – one went through the left eye and pierced his brain. He had swallowed his tongue, restricting his airway!" she reeled off the list of injuries from memory, and I remembered that field again... So that wasn't a dream.

Zama's insistence gave Domingo pause, and he turned to me thoughtfully. "I don' see no scars," he said at length.

Zama gripped her cane tightly, "Even the best healers would have been able to do nothing... This isn't right..."

She was eyeing me warily, but suddenly I wasn't interested in that.

"Valla?!" I blurted.

The other two were surprised by my sudden outburst.

I recognised that name, but it was one I had expected to hear so little that it had taken me most of the elders' conversation to realise it. It couldn't be _that_ Valla, could it? No, it didn't make sense. It was a place in a video game!

Yet, the evidence seemed to fit. This cave, and its furnishings, were certainly not from the technological era I was used to. Then there were those monsters – the ones that had attacked me. Their medieval weapons, the way they rippled like water. They were just like the Vallite soldiers from the game – the dead Vallite masses, animated by foul magic.

I felt dizzy. The room was spinning, and my eyes could no longer focus. I was going to throw up, I knew it.

Suddenly, I screamed out. Pain like I had never felt before seared my chest, like the swords that had pierced it were back, and I could only now feel them.

My eyes shot open. They had been closed? The woman and the man were both standing above me. I had fallen over?

They were saying something. Loudly, it seemed, but I couldn't tell what it was. They were moving so slowly, and my own blinks and laboured breaths felt sluggish.

A crash. The world returned to normal speed. Beside me had landed the woman's wooden cane, its tip fading.

"... natural..." the woman was muttering to herself, now not daring to look at me.

Domingo was staring with a mixture of concern and fear, "Derek?" he kept repeating. "Derek, can ye 'ear me?"

"Y-yeah," I finally answered, voice weak with uncertainty.

"Ya fainted," Domingo explained. "Zama tried ta wake ye wi' 'er 'ealin' staff, bu'..."

I glanced at the cane, then clambered into a sitting position. The other two kept glancing then flinching away from my chest, which still throbbed with a dull ache. I looked down, and immediately the feeling of wanting to vomit returned.

My chest was bare, the cloak having been hastily removed and lay next to me, but I wished with all my heart that it could return to cover this sight.

My chest was blackened, darker than the night, broken only by blistering patches of dark red. They bubbled even as I looked at them, and now that I had seen them, they wracked my body with pain. Most of my stomach flesh and sizeable male breasts of flab had been covered, and where plain skin met the painful blackness, it faded into a spider's web of pink and black.

"Wh-" I rasped, suddenly feeling a heaving feeling in what was left of my stomach. I turned to the floor instinctively to empty it, but upon applying pressure to the wound I gasped with pain, wanting to scream but too distracted.

Domingo and Zama returned me to my back, and I shuddered, though not with cold.

"What are you?" Zama hissed, her voice more accusatory than before, though it was not anger lacing her voice.

"Easy," Domingo warned, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder and looking at me with curiosity. "We saw ye faint, an' Zama tried to 'eal ya, bu'..."

He trailed off, gesturing to my strange wound, but I focused on something else. "Heal?"

Zama nodded here, collecting her staff and, it seemed, her senses. "Yes, I am the cleric on duty, so it is my job to look after any of our wounded survivors."

"Did this 'appen before?" Domingo asked her suddenly.

"When he was brought in? I didn't try. He was dead on arrival. Even Reth only wished him a good burial, as you well know."

Domingo nodded solemnly, then gazed at me again. "So wha' 'happened?"

"I... I don't know," uncertainty was back to Zama's voice. "It's as though... His body rejected the healing magic."

Domingo nodded, thoughtfully, then pulled a concealed knife from his tunic. It was a cruel, sharp thing, undecorated and with a curved blade. No kitchen utensil, I knew. It reminded me of knives found in military and history museums, near the old war axes, and hatchets, or surrounded by sarcophagi and rolls of linen.

He lowered it to the burned flesh spread across my stomach, and I started, trying to move away. I was too weak.

His blade sliced into me, and he began to peel me like a fruit. I felt nothing, the rest of the wound blocking out all other pain with its sharp throbs.

He kept going, still slicing and cutting me with practiced ease. When he pulled it back, he stopped. Even his breath was silent, and Zama's face went white.

I wanted to look, but Domingo suddenly continued his cutting, letting me see, and suddenly my fear mounted to a whole new level.

Under the charred skin, where I had expected to see only bone and blood, clean, fresh skin was rising, pulling itself taut over my innards, knitting itself back together wondrously. My chest no longer hurt so badly, now the feeling more like I had been punched heavily in the gut. It still hurt, but at least this was far more tolerable than before.

The flesh was off now, and I realised there was a foul odour in the room. The smell was of rot and pus. I wrinkled my nose, and Domingo guffawed at that. He was an undertaker, I remembered, and so these smells would be familiar to him, and familiar to the healer too.

I sat up, tentatively feeling at the newly healed skin. It was smooth, and my gut was gone. I had the flat stomach I had always wanted, but...

"How?" I asked simply, looking at the others for answers.

Zama shook her head. "Come with me. We should see if Shadya knows anything about this."


	5. Learning

Chapter Four: Learning

Zama led me out of the room, through what seemed a maze of natural tunnels. Domingo was with us too, but he was waylaid by some passing children in rags.

That was something I noticed – there were people milling around the caves. They spoke to one another in solemn, hushed tones, their appearances shabby and worn. Some of them would be sat, watching skinny children dash along the halls or prod at cobwebs. A woman with a bandaged arm smiled at Zama as we passed, then went down one of the many crisscrossing torchlit paths.

I soon realised that nobody's smile here seemed to extend beyond their mouths. The children in their innocence were the exception, but even they must have noticed an unease in the air. It was eerie, as though everyone was afraid.

We stopped at a room, and I found myself wondering at just how spacious this cave was. We stepped through the uncovered opening. There was a woman sat on the floor, for the room was barren save for a few short stacks of papers and books.

They were spread about haphazardly, and the woman was constantly picking up foreign diagrams or maps, looking at them only briefly, then placing them back down with a sigh.

She looked up, finally, her lidded eyes heavy as they peered at Zama.

Zama shook her head as though answering some silent question, then gestured to me, "This is... Derek?" I nodded, and she continued, "Derek. Derek, this is Shadya, our resident librarian."

Shadya shook her head sadly, her voice so quiet to the point it was barely audible, "Hardly a library."

Zama gestured at me again, "I suppose you'll have no books about it, but Derek seems to have some unusual properties." She explained my situation to the librarian then, and as Shadya listened, I realised there were parts to this story even I didn't know.

"Reth's men found him on Solemit Fields. He was dead, so they just brought him back for burial. Dom rescued him from his tomb though, and he... well, as you can see, he's not dead. He fainted shortly after his rescue, and when I tried to wake him with my staff, his skin burned black and bubbled off."

Shadya stood, and I realised she was remarkably small. Her slight frame barely came to my chin, though this did make it easier for Zama to show her my chest and explain the rest of the situation in full.

I found my eyes drifting to the scattered papers, and when I realised that neither woman was paying me any more attention, I knelt down and grabbed a few maps.

The maps seemed to mainly be of islands, though I realised that I actually recognised a few of them. One, a map of a large continent cut off at the north and west, but otherwise split in two by a massive valley, was of Nohr and Hoshido. I recognised it easily from the game, and another of the maps showed the floating islands of Valla.

It wasn't sea separating any of the Vallite islands. They hung in the air, separated by great swathes of nothingness. Natural land bridges stretched between a few of them, sometimes moving mysteriously to other islands.

The maps were marked with dots, here and there – spots of differing sizes, though most were crossed out. The largest spot was not crossed over, however. It was a mark of deep red on the green land. That location was the Castle Gyges, and it made me uneasy even looking at it.

That mark, at least, I could understand. I recognised it from the game, after all, but how did I possibly know what all of the other marks were?

Because I did know. I realised that those spots had been human settlements – in size order: cities, towns, villages, hamlets and solitary farms. The ones crossed out had already been scouted – no survivors at most, if not all of them. Survivors of what?

My eyes flicked to the ominous red spot that was Castle Gyges, the ruling castle in the capital city of Valla. My eyes trailed to an open book, filled with pictures of dragons. The words were foreign – a lettering system neither Latin nor Cyrillic. I didn't recognise any of it for it was no alphabet I knew. A boxed letter here, then an ornate version of an ampersand.

And suddenly, as I stared at it, I knew what it said. It was dragon anatomy, researchers using it to find Anankos's weakness. A scribbled margin listed some of the lines to a very familiar song.

I knelt down, pulling a feather from one of the books and dipping it into an inkwell. I filled in the missing words to the song, barely hearing Shadya's cry of alarm as I vandalised what few books the survivors of Anankos's tyranny had salvaged.

I kept going, pouring the words easily onto the page, even using those newly learned letters. I stopped, finally, the song finished. Shadya snatched it from me then to see what I had done.

"You can read? Write?" Zama asked of me, surprised.

"He knows the song!" Shadya added, disbelieving.

I nodded, "I... I didn't recognise the language at first, but... Suddenly I did."

"The song?" Shadya repeated, prodding for information.

"It... I come from far away, where that song is still known."

Shadya rifled through the sheets then, pulling out the map of Nohr and Hoshido. Instead of pointing to any of the borders, though, she tapped near the middle of the map. "Far away? Another world?"

I nodded, and Zama, who had been mouthing the song I had written, looked up, "This is a prophecy."

Shadya and I looked at her, and she explained. "The song, it's not just lyrics. The words tell a story. It seems prophetic."

I nodded, and tried to explain. "Where I'm from, there's a story. A lost child of Valla was sent to Hoshido, and a woman fled with her daughter to Nohr. The... The "ocean's grey waves" is that person – the missing child. And the song has to be sung by that daughter."

Shadya and Zama were silent, then Shadya spoke, her voice a breath, "Ladies Mikoto and Arete..."

I nodded, knowing those names.

"You must help us!" Zama said with a sudden finality. "You clearly have unique abilities – being able to absorb knowledge and with a natural healing skill never before seen. You must retrieve the missing Queens of Valla, and their children. Bring them here to help us!"

I paused, then nodded eventually, finding myself growing excited by the prospect of meeting Corrin and Azura. "How do I get out of Valla?"

Zama and Shadya did not know.

...

It was a few days later, my having read and absorbed all of the limited library. I found that I knew things not even mentioned in the books. I somehow knew why the authors had written certain things, and when I picked up a Volume 2 without reading its predecessor, I managed to recite most of the missing book using instinct. One of the survivors who had actually managed to read the book before it was lost, confirmed that my retelling was accurate.

I trained with some of the soldiers each morning. They laughed at my slow movements and weak attacks, my lacking skill and non-existent self defence. Then, when they saw my broken bones reattach and my bruises vanish, they panicked. I could never beat them physically, it seemed, but they could do no lasting damage to me.

We discovered that of magic, I could shrug most of it off with no effort, but healing magic – alternatively called holy or light magic – made my skin and blood bubble and slowed my healing down. I had to beg an overzealous monk to stop his healing once – he had been insistent that enough healing would "heal the anti-healing."

The hunting party returned with news. They brought with them a frail, dying man, shrouded in white and with blue hair. Everybody knew who he was, and their faces were solemn and filled with respect as his procession filed through.

He was set in a room, on the only bedding they had, and one by one, he quietly called out names from within. At each name, one of the hundreds of survivors would enter to kiss his forehead, and though they entered with tears, they left with looks of hope.

Finally, he seemed to reach the end of the list, but then he called out another name. Mine.

I entered, passing whispering Vallites either wondering who I was, or wondering what the man knew my name.

He laid, staring at me with gentle blue eyes as I sat on the chair by his bed. His blue hair framed his face, and his skin was pale.

"You know who I am?" he said finally. His voice, which had been quiet from outside, still seemed to echo, and the sound of it warmed my heart.

"Anankos?" I replied, uncertain, but the human half of Anankos smiled.

"And you are Derek, not of this world," he said. Regret flitted across his face, "I must apologise for that. It was my power that brought you here."

I looked at him and said, "I... I can do things. I heal, but... Healing magic hurts me. And the books..."

He smiled sadly, "What those powers are, I cannot tell you. But I must reveal a sad truth."

He paused, and I nodded for him to continue, "I tampered in a realm that was not mine, and my actions were not without consequences. You were on the verge of death, it seems. A natural one, passing in your sleep, but my meddling with dimensional magic brought you here, halting your passing between life and death. I am sorry."

I had... Died? Or... I was dying? I slumped in the chair at that, but Anankos seemed both sincere and regretful.

"I cannot return you to your world in this state, and rather, I would request your aid." He sat straighter, and then told me, "I brought three warriors here, tasking them with the sad duty of ending my other self's mad reign. I wish for you to go with them, aiding their quest as a tactician."

"Tactician?" I repeated, "I don't... I'm not that good at tactics."

Anankos bowed his head, wincing as he did, "And so I shall bequeath to you my centuries of knowledge. I have seen many wars and battles, both as a soldier and a leader. My wisdom will guide you, and the three dragon slayers shall guide you to the world above."

I nearly gaped at the godlike being, "You... For me?"

"Yes," Anankos's smile was warm, despite his cold body. "Odin, Laslow and Selena are the three dragon slayers. I will send you to them, but I can send you no further. They have their task – to find a Princess named Corrin, and guide her here."

"The... Curse of Valla?" I checked.

"You know of it? Good. Then you should know to avoid speaking of Valla or Anankos outside this country's borders. Truthfully, I am not sure if it would affect you, but it would still draw undue attention."

"What about Azura?" I asked, realising he had not mentioned her.

He paused, head tilting, then he remembered, "Arete's child? I was not certain she still lived. But yes, if she does, then she shall be vital to saving this world."

I smiled, "I'll go to Hoshido. The other three can find Corrin, and I'll try to save Azura."

Anankos was shocked at my declaration, then chuckled, letting out a cough when he was done, "It seems you already have some form of plan, and you claimed to have no tactical prowess." A shake of blue hair on pale skin, then: "But I have little time left. I have clung to life far past I should have. Come. Place your palms on my forehead."

I did as he instructed, and wanted to recoil. His skin was not cold, it was hot, like touching a lit stove. I persevered, and next I knew, I was falling through darkness.


	6. Tactician

Chapter Five: Tactician

I woke to three faces, looking at me with curiosity.

"Ah, you're awake!" one of the males said. His face was youthful, and his hair a blue-silver. He wore mercenary garb – a light leathery armour with a plated shoulder guard. A sword hung at his waist, and he moved with practiced grace.

He helped me to my feet, my mouth murmuring my thanks even as my brain buzzed.

"So, you are the fabled other-worldly individual our mutual benefactor sent to our aid?" the male asked. He wore mustard coloured robes – a thin material which did little to cover his muscled chest. At his side hung an inconspicuous yellow book, thick and leather bound.

I barely registered his words, too absorbed in my brain, so I only briefly caught the group's female snapping at me.

"Uh, hello?!" she bristled, her striking red hair tied in long twin ponytails, one of which brushed at her own sheathed sword. She too wore mercenary garb, though the female style. "Are you even paying attention here?!"

I flinched at her curtness, and nodded my head quickly, "Sorry, sorry! Y-yes, I'm Derek."

"Well met, Derek," the first male smiled, his face warm and genuine. "My name is Laslow. I understand you are to be our new tactician."

"You'd better pay more attention on the battlefield than to your conversations, or to your fashion sense!" the woman sniffed haughtily. She must have been in her teens, perhaps seventeen or so?"

"Come, Sev- I mean, Selena," the other male began, correcting himself when Selena shot him a glare, "I am sure that our new ally on this quest shall not guide us false! And Derek, please, you must excuse my friend's frostiness. She has long been a faithful friend of I, Owa-"

"Odin!" Selena put in crossly, "The least you could do is remember your own name, if not ours!"

Odin faltered, then raised his hand heroically, "Indeed! It was but a jape! Another cunning deception by the mighty Odin Dark!"

I smiled at them, "I... I do know your names. Ana- er... I was told."

Laslow nodded at me in acknowledgement of what I had been about to say. "Do you have much experience in the way of tactics? We once knew a brilliant tactical mind, you see, and I'd be eager to see how you stack up."

I shook my head, to Selena's disappointment, written plain on her face.

I assessed the three again. It was odd, seeing these game characters in reality. They looked like expert cosplayers, role playing and never dropping the act for one second. I had a sudden urge to take a picture of them, like I was always tempted to do at comic conventions.

I didn't have the courage to go ask though, so the camera in my pocket usually went forgotten. And here, even if I had the confidence...

I idly reached into the pocket of my borrowed trousers – some tattered spares one of the Vallite survivors had given me, along with a threadbare tunic, torn at the bottom to act more like a t-shirt than a dress. There was something in this pocket, so I pulled it out.

It was a small rectangle with the texture of tin. It was mostly flat, with only about a millimetre in depth. What interested me most, though, was a pair of symbols. As I looked at them, words seemed to float into view, beneath each symbol.

The first symbol, a white circle on the black device, had the word "Vitals", whilst the other, a square, rested above the word "Map".

"What is this?" I asked, showing the device to the trio.

They looked at my palm curiously, then shared a look of confusion amongst themselves. Selena was the first to answer, looking at me with a glare.

"It's a hand!" she snapped. "So what? Was that some kind of test?"

I blinked at her, then pointed at the device. "No, this! What is this?"

Laslow shook his head, his smile still cordial but small now, "I'm afraid we don't understand. All we can see is truly your palm."

I peered at the device. They couldn't see it?

Curious, I tapped the "Vitals" button, and a picture of Odin appeared. "Owain Lowell," the text read. "Born Ylisstol, 2612 AC."

There was more information too – stats like would have been seen in Fire Emblem Fates, information about his weapon (and a Vulnerary he was carrying), and even his relationships with other people.

"Wow," I marvelled at it, oblivious to the looks the three were giving me.

A hand pushed at me, soft and female. The screen's display changed suddenly, showing the red headed female now – "Severa Lear. Born Ylisstol, 2612 AC."

It was she that had pushed me, though I had to remind myself that she was in disguise as "Selena".

She was glaring at me, annoyed at having to get my attention, "What are you even doing?" she was asking, turning her anger at my hand, extended as though I were holding something, but something only I could see.

"My tactics," I told her, the answer coming easily to my mind. Because it was. This was the power Anankos had given me; something only I could see, an easy way of displaying the godlike omniscience granted to the player of a Fire Emblem game.

I recalled one of the conversations from Fire Emblem Awakening. It had been only my second Fire Emblem game, and even from the Prologue mission displayed in the demo version of the game, I had realised I had found a new favourite series.

Two of the main characters had been talking – the noble Lord of the game, and the recently recruited army tactician.

" _It's strange," the tactician had said. "Here on the battlefield, I can... Well, I can "see" things."_

" _See things?" the Prince had repeated, worried, "Like what?"_

" _The enemy's strength, their weaponry, the flow of battle..."_

That must have been what this was. A tactician's sight in the palm of my hand.

"It's alright," I smiled at the trio. "I just found my tactical gift."

"Excellent," commented Laslow, very obviously deciding to ignore my odd behaviour. "In that case, let's be off. We have a lost Princess to find."

"Princess Corrin..." I murmured. I looked at the device, tapping on the Map icon now.

The Map showed all of Nohr, the dark country where the plants were so scarce, the fields of the realm seemed black with evil. The land was split in two by a great, gaping chasm, vertically extending from shore to shore, the water seeming to fall in and flow out the other side. To the east of the great valley were the verdant lands of Hoshido, scattered pink in places where beautiful Sakura forests stood. A small white dot stood near the south of the canyon – our location.

"I... I have a plan," I told the three. "Princess Corrin is meant to be in Nohr right now, living with her adopted family. I doubt the King will have let her know they aren't blood related though. Still, we will need her families' help. Both of her families."

"Both?" Laslow asked curiously. "She has another family?"

I nodded, "She was raised in Hoshido until being stolen by the Nohrians, remember?"

The three should have been told this by Anankos, if my memory of the Hidden Truths DLC was correct.

To my relief, Owain, going here by the alias Odin, nodded. "Indeed! So what would you suggest we do, mighty tactician? Are we to divide ourselves thin, two of our noble band recruiting the services of Princess Corrin's family by birthright in Hoshido, whilst our others seek to conquer her Nohrian relations?"

I took a moment to parse through his words, then shook my head. "Not exactly. You three need to go to Nohr and become friends with Princess Corrin's siblings. Watch over her and keep her safe, and be ready to get the Nohrians to join our cause."

"Us three?" Selena repeated angrily, "What's that supposed to mean?! You're going to Hoshido alone?"

"Hoshido should be easier to convince," I told her. "The Hoshidans will want their missing sister back, and they are led by Queen Mikoto, a gentle person. Plus, she knows about the greater goal already."

Laslow's eyebrows raised, "She does? How do you know? How can you be sure?"

I frowned. I couldn't exactly tell them that I had experienced this entire story as a game. They wouldn't even know what a 3DS was...

"I was told," I finally said. It was technically the truth, though the dragon slayers would likely assume that it was Anankos who had told me.

They seemed to accept my half-truth, and Selena huffed.

"Come on then! We need to get to Nohr as soon as possible to get this all over with!"

Laslow smiled at me, as Selena stomped off. "She means that she looks forward to seeing you again. As do I, for hopefully next time we meet, we will be much closer to saving this world."

I smiled back at him. His voice was confident and reassuring, and his smiles were so contagious it was hard not to feel hopeful that he was correct.

He left too, leaving Odin looking at me oddly.

"W-what?" I asked him, unsure.

Odin seemed to have dropped his over dramatic act as he scrutinised me. "You're like Laslow, in some ways. You both hide your insecurities behind smiles to reassure others. But..." he paused, "You're not as convincing."

I blinked at him, letting my mask drop. "I-is it that obvious?"

"No," Odin confessed. "If I wasn't used to facades from my friends, I could be convinced. To anybody else..." he shrugged. "A word of advice: Laslow spends his spare time dancing, mainly so he doesn't have to remember his past. Selena has shopping, and I have... My own passions. I don't know what you're interested in, but everyone needs a way to escape."

I watched him leave, thinking on what he had said. He was right. I needed a way to escape. But what...?

Gaming was out, since there was no chance of finding a 3DS here. Reading was something of an option. I had always enjoyed it, but while I had always been a speedy reader, I had discovered in Valla that now I almost consumed books. I barely had to touch a book to know how it ended.

I wasn't physically fit, and whenever I tried to create something, be it a picture, a story or a song, I would soon look on it the next day with contempt, finding all the flaws that had eluded me when I had left it feeling satisfied. That had been one of the main reasons I had quit university. A lack of satisfaction in my work led to a lack of word being produced, and...

Damn. Odin was right. I needed to find a new hobby, and fast!

...

 **Author's Note: I haven't put an Author's Note in the last few chapters, and I apologise for that. And there has been a delay in the upload of this chapter. There's a reason for that, at least.**

 **I was unhappy with this chapter. It felt too short. Even though it's in the midrange of the chapters lengthwise so far...**

 **I wanted to add part of the next chapter onto this, which is mostly written, but thematically it's too different. It sets far too different a tone to flow easily as part of a single chapter. It's bad enough I had the time skip last chapter (I had planned not to have any time skips, but I've realised that sometimes there's no choice when writing a story).**

 **Anyway, I need to give a big thanks to everyone that has been reading this story so far, and a special thanks to martinwdotts, Maronmario and martinwdotts again (wow, that actually does mean a lot!), who have gone the extra mile of reviewing. Another thanks to my friends who have been helping me beta read this story!**

 **There. Author's Note over. Word count is up a bit more now.**


	7. Trek

Chapter Six: Trek

My feet ached, my legs were stiff, and sweat was getting in my eyes.

It was my sixth day of walking, and I was weak with hunger. It was a sensation not unfamiliar to me, but that made it no more pleasant.

I had always had a huge appetite, that was no secret. It was the reason my still healing body kept adding layers of fat to my stomach.

But why did I eat so much? There were actually many reasons - that I enjoyed food was but one. A newer reason, from my days of living alone at university, was that I knew the feeling of starvation.

Once, before I had learned to budget, I had squandered all of my money. I had gone about a week of December. It was hard, forcing me to lay on my bed most of the days, feeling as though my stomach was actually digesting itself.

I had finally been saved by the Christmas holidays, when my mother had come through to take me home. I wolfed hungrily at her expertly made meals, but refused to show that weakness in front of her. Relatives complimented me, telling me I had lost weight.

When it was time to return to university, I had a bit of money and some leftover food to take with me. I was determined to never endure another week like the one without food.

It was starting to turn into another week like that one though, and this time, it wasn't my fault.

Honestly, it was foolish of me to not have predicted this outcome. I had encountered a few wild animals – rabbits and birds, and even an antlerless deer at one point – but to me, they weren't food.

For others, sure. Odin and the others would likely have hunted animals to keep themselves going, but I had been raised a vegetarian. I refused to take an innocent animal's life, even if it killed me.

At this rate, it very well may kill me, I thought grimly. How were vegetarians supposed to survive on the road without food?

Ah, of course, they would take food with them. Fruits and vegetables from farms or markets, or bread fresh from the bakers...

A heavy rumble forced me to stop, doubling in pain. My hands clutched at my stomach. I needed to keep going, but I couldn't take another step until this hunger pang had faded.

I had found a stream headed south, and was following it, knowing that I needed water. I had stopped each night when the sun had gone down, stripping to my undergarments and dipping the clothes in the water to clean off the sweat. The damp clothes then became my bedding, uncomfortable at first, but they kept me cool in the Hoshidan heat. I would awaken in the morning, too weak to move at first, but finally gathering the strength to move.

The map on the tactical guide had told me that the stream led to a river – River Sareni – which flowed into the southern ocean. At the mouth of the river, a port town stood, where I could likely get food and passage to the capital of Hoshido.

My hunger pang ended, and I could move again. Instead though, I reached to my pocket for the device.

I pinched the map like a touchscreen phone, pulling apart my thumb and forefinger on the display to zoom into my position.

There was another reason I had chosen to follow this stream. Apparently, a small wheat farm stood on the shore further south, an apple orchard nearby.

It should have been visible to the naked eye by now, judging from the map, but then again the map was huge. According to the map, I had barely left the Bottomless Canyon, and wasn't even an eighth of the way into Hoshidan lands. If I continued at this pace straight to Castle Shirasagi, it would likely take over a month.

The sun was starting to set again. I set myself down on the bank of the river to prepare for another night of uneasy sleep.

I cupped my hands into the water, drinking the water desperately and uncaring of the cleanliness of it. Then, I took my clothes in, letting that same water wash away sweat and dirt. They were a simple peasant garb, borrowed from the Vallite survivors, beige and brown – easy to clean materials that were used to dirty work.

I wished I had brought a weapon with me when I had gone to see Anankos. He could at least have provided me with one. Even just one of those rusty bronze axes or dented brass clubs I had briefly tried training with.

Training... There was a thought. I got back to the shore and removed the thankfully waterproof tactical device from somewhere in the bundle of rags. I scanned myself with it this time, the days having taught me a little of how to use it.

"Derek Gruff. Born Sheffield, 1995 AD."

That was information I already knew. Next were my stats.

"Class: Fighter, Level: One."

That gave me pause. Fighters were an axe wielding class, so perhaps my choosing to use axes and clubs in practice against the Vallites had been what decided that?

Still, my actual statistics were odd. In game, Fighters were known and feared for their high Health and Strength. They often had decent Skill, Speed and Defence but...

"HP: 19/19

Strength: 5

Magic: 8

Skill: 6

Speed: 1

Luck: 2

Defence: 9

Resistance: 11

Movement: 5

Weapon Ranks: Axes-E, Clubs-E"

That... Single point in Speed caught my attention, but I had to admit that I knew the reason.

I was not fast. I hated running, and in every sports day and Physical Education class at school I had come last in the races or marathons.

The high Defence and higher Resistance were welcome surprises. But that HP on a Fighter... I scrolled down and recognised the icon for the skill "HP +5" even without the little number on it.

HP +5 was a straightforward skill, boosting its owner's health by 5 points. It meant that essentially, my HP was only 14, a very low number for a Fighter.

I recognised that skill, yes, but there was another icon too. It was earlier, coming right after the word "Skills" so I tapped on it.

Just like in Fire Emblem Fates itself, tapping on things caused a little window to appear, providing more information.

"Zombie: This unit cannot be healed by Rods/Staves, but absorbs knowledge quickly."

That... Wasn't a skill I recognised. It could have been one unique to myself, I supposed. A personal skill, like characters were given in Fire Emblem Fates.

It was a black circle, broken by a white book, opened to some page unseen from the book's horizontal position. A white star, four pointed, floated above the book as though it had emerged.

Zombie? What was that supposed to mean?

I slept that night no easier than any other, drifting off to thoughts of zombie stories.

The next day, the farm came into view. The apple trees promised by the map lined a country lane, a winding dirt path leading from the apple woods to the river. The path turned to follow the river, until it faded into the shore.

I stopped to look at the path, then dashed at the trees. I gathered armfuls of the red apples, all of them fresh and free of bruises.

Finally, I had found food. River Sareni gained a pile of disposed apple cores on its shore, the juices sucked dry.

...

Rather than follow my initial plan of following the river towards the port town, I instead had decided to visit the farm. Hopefully, I could borrow or purchase a bag, or some way of taking food with me.

The dirt path was uneven, but thin lines traced it – tracks from the wheels of a wooden cart. Even I, ever cynical of nature, had to admit that Hoshido was a beautiful place.

In the skies above, the sun shone brightly. It was warm, but not to the point where I was covered in sweat. Light filtered through gaps in the leaves, though the road itself was mostly already out of the shade. A light aroma was in the air, filling my every breath with the pleasant odours of fruit and grass.

It was like the woods back home, I decided, though I knew that those woods had been old, littered and...

I stopped, running a hand over my face. I needed to stop thinking of that house as my home. The home of my youth, a childhood lost to time... I couldn't go back. That small bedroom with the bed built into the walls, a loose wire outside which tapped on the window sometimes, the box of my Lego in its rightful place – the only available floor space...

Tears were in my eyes. When had they started? I didn't know, but I realised it wasn't just my childhood home I missed.

There was so much to miss about Earth, I realised, but most of all I missed my mother.

Whenever I had been at my lowest before, be it when I received father's letter or when I had been struggling with bullying at school, she had been there for me. Even at university, no food, friends or confidence in my work, I had known she was just a phone call away. Here, even that was not an option.

The sun was nearing midday by now. I lifted my face to it, eyes closed, letting the light drop through the thin canopy to dance on my face. It wasn't unpleasant, but the summer breeze was unfamiliar. It brought me back to the present, to the farm road.

It was only a few minutes more of walking that I arrived at the farm. A sheep looked at me lazily nearby, its white wool glistening in the open sunlight. It turned and loped off slowly, across a long field to some other sheep laid on the far side.

I was almost walking beside it, on the other side of the fence, but it was heading away from me, diagonally. It was smaller than the others, I noticed, a younger sheep. There were no lambs there, or none that I could see.

The other side of the road was an empty field, with only a single, grand apple tree to break the grass expanse. The road ended with the fenced fields, opening to a court of dirt and hay. There was a wheat field further to the left, but the right was blocked by a wooden stable, painted red-brown. Of the six stalls, only one was empty. The other horses stood or laid, one brown packhorse nuzzling at its hooves, a white pegasus tending to their feathered wings, a great black beast staring me down and hoofing the ground, and the last two lazy palomino fillies reclining.

I stared at them all, admiring their beauty. I loved horses, and most animals. But the pegasus in particular caught my eye. Winged horses! That was something only dreamt of on Earth, but here they were real!

Unbidden, my hand was out, reaching for the curious pegasus's snout. I was almost there...

"I wouldn't do that," a voice said suddenly, making me jump.

I turned, looking at the woman. She was young, perhaps only 17 or 18, but bore herself with such grace that she seemed more mature than I. Her hair was red, short and tussled, and her clothes were whites and reds. They weren't particularly fancy, but still spoke of wealth and nobility. A sensible outfit for both banquets and battle, though the woman was clearly more suited to the latter.

A naginata was in her hands, a long wooden pole with a fierce blade attached to one end. The entire pole was concealed behind a long shield of cloth or wood. The shield was adorned with a stylised sun image.

She peered at me suspiciously, then simply smiled, lowering her naginata, "I was just leaving."

She stepped to move around me, reaching for the gate to her pegasus's stall, before I found my words.

"Y-you're Princess Hinoka," I croaked out.

She merely looked at me and nodded, "Surprised to see the Princess so far from the castle?" she scoffed. "A life of sitting about isn't for me. Especially not with the retainers I have."

She sighed at that, looking around as though her retainers might show up. "You haven't seen a blue haired archer, have you?"

"Y-you..." I stuttered, then shook my head to her question. "N-no, sorry..."

Hinoka grimaced, now leading her pegasus from the stable and saddling it up, "Hopefully Azama will have fared better and actually brought her back home by now."

I stared at her, processing this information as she mounted her pegasus.

"I-I hope you find her," I managed to stutter.

Princess Hinoka, the second of four Hoshidan siblings, smiled at me, then led her pegasus away. It trotted, then sped to a gallop, and just before it would have reached the end of the field, the white horse leapt into the air, its wings unfurling to flap upwards. She flew, up and away, then the pegasus spiralled in midair, turning back the other way and simply soaring overhead.

It was an astonishing sight, the mythical beast speeding away, and suddenly I felt my breath catch in my throat.

I had been trying not to think of getting home. I didn't know if it was possible, and I had been both curious and excited enough to continue my journey for now. I wanted to see this through. I needed to help the people of Valla and Anankos, who were counting on me to get help from the nobility of Hoshido and Nohr.

But would I ever get home? Anankos had said I had died in my sleep back home... What would my mother think? Would she see an empty bed, or was there a corpse there?

I was panicking, I realised. The tears from before I had seen the pegasus were back, and the farm was a watery blur now.

Not just a blur... It span, and I felt much too exposed, too unsafe in the outdoors. I took a step, stumbled, and fell.

...

Author's Note:

First, I should mention that I went back and made some edits to previous chapters. I wanted to do more in-depth edits, but when I started this story, the idea was just to write and keep everything fully intact. As such, the edits were just name changes. I came up with a naming scheme for my characters which I might address later...

I'm still working on this story. I think I've already said that I'm writing this for myself, as a sort of mental catharsis, just writing a little bit every night or when I feel like it. That being said, this is one of my least favourite chapters, and the next chapter is even worse (in my opinion) but hey-ho. I need to stop ending chapters with me fainting though...

I want to give a public thanks to Rainsfere for their in-depth review (I did PM Rainsfere to address all of their points), but as it seems there was confusion with some aspects of this story so far, I'll address them here.

First, there is a prophecy, but my character, Derek, is not part of that prophecy. I just know the song from playing the game, and the song is the prophecy. Second, panic will be shown throughout the entire story. I don't want to have it all up-front and then just have Derek go around the world like he's always belonged in it, and I don't want to spread it too heavily throughout the story so that nothing ever gets done. I want to make it realistic, yes, but if this _was_ truly realistic, I would probably have woken up in that field on day 1, curled up into a ball and cried. Or not. I have no idea how I would react, having never been in that situation. I don't think anyone can accurately predict how they would act in a situation they've never been in.

(Also that's not all my real personal information...)

Anyway, that's all for this chapter.


	8. Purpose

Author's Note: There's a major time-skip in this chapter. More on that after.

Chapter 7: Purpose

When I woke, my mother was still not there. Instead, it was night. The stars and cloud-shrouded moon were above me, and the ground was hard and rocking from side to side. It was noisy, a rattle of wood against floor and the clopping of hooves against stone.

I was in a wooden carriage, surrounded by small crates and covered pails. I sat up, looking around. The carriage was being driven by a dark haired man, broad-shouldered but thin. He wore a vest of beige, and a hat of straw. He focused on the horses pulling the carriage – two palominos, so I turned to my surroundings.

It was late, the sun disappearing over the distant horizon of wooded hills, the sky alight with waves of red and orange. We were on a wooden road, wide enough for two carriages to safely pass, and a town was ahead, a beacon of flickering light in the green vista.

The man turned to me, finally, letting me see the dusting of hair on his face.

"Ah, you're awake," he said, his voice gravel but tone friendly. "My wife found you sleeping by the stable, so I brought you along with me to town. Don't wanna leave just anybody with her alone, after all."

I nodded at him, taking a moment to find my voice, "Thank you."

He nodded, seeming satisfied, and turned back to the horses, guiding them straight again. "The name's Phoros."

"Derek," I responded, and the farmer turned back, giving me a glance.

"Thought you didn't look Hoshidan," he said, "But you don't look like the usual Nohrians that venture this far across the border. Where are you from?"

I struggled for an answer. I could neither tell him the truth, for who would believe that? Nor a half-truth, due to Anankos's curse on Valla.

Phoros said nothing, seeming content to let me spin whatever lie I wanted.

"I crossed the border..." I eventually ventured, "But I hold no love for King Garon."

Phoros remained silent, though the gates of the town ahead were visible now, so perhaps his attention was elsewhere.

"I can't go back home," I told him. "It's... It's gone."

He still did not speak, though I saw his shoulders heave, and for a while there was silence, broken only by a gatekeeper recognising him and ordering the gates opened.

"Aye," he finally said to me, once we were riding past buildings and people headed to bed. "You wouldn't be the first one to complain of Nohr's cruelty and seek refuge from it. This village, Bren, has many such seekers of asylum here."

He led the carriage down another street, and stopped it behind a huge building.

"Perhaps you'll find some... Oof... Of your own kinsmen here?" he said, dismounting from his seat and looking at me expectantly.

With a start, I moved to help him, and once all of the crates of fruit and pails of milk and water were safely in the warehouse, the Sun had fully set.

In the light of the moon and torches, we steered the horses to a small stable nearby and he led me to an inn.

The inn was near empty, with only a few patrons and a single innkeeper. The innkeeper was short and balding, only a halo of dark hair on his head. He recognised Phoros, taking his hand in a firm shake.

"What are your plans?" Phoros finally asked me once he had purchased a glass of ale and noticing that I was still following him like a lost puppy.

"I... need to get to Castle Shirasagi,"

Phoros laughed, "Why? You think you'd be let in?"

I frowned, determined, "I want to pledge my service to the Hoshidan royal family, and I have information about Nohr- King Garon's plans."

Phoros laughed again, "Aye. Many of the Nohrian refugees say such things." He hummed thoughtfully, "It's a shame you didn't come to my farm five minutes earlier. Princess Hinoka herself visited. I'm sure she would have had a good laugh about your claims."

"Princess Azura of Nohr was kidnapped by Hoshido," I blurted out, before I even realised my mouth had opened.

As I flushed over my outburst, Phoros raised a brow at me, "That's common knowledge."

"She was kidnapped in retaliation for Nohr's abduction of Princess Corrin," I ventured after finding my tongue. Phoros nodded, so I continued, "But I know where Princess Corrin is being held."

"Castle Crackingburg, or whatever it's called, right?" Phoros shrugged, "Garon would likely want to keep a close eye on his prisoner."

I shook my head, smiling, "No. Garon has no love for her, so while he fears that she may discover their lack of blood ties, he keeps her far away. She is being trained by Nohr's finest knights and her adoptive siblings, so that Garon can use her as a weapon against Hoshido."

Phoros scowled, "Even if that were true, what chance does one more soldier on Nohr's side stand?"

"She's not just another soldier," I told him. "She has the blood of Hoshido's Dawn Dragon and Nohr's Dusk Dragon."

Phoros actually scoffed at this, "Dawn and Dusk? Those dragons are fairy tales to frighten children."

"Garon believes in them," I pointed out. "Even if it's not true, don't you think it's knowledge Queen Mikoto should have? That her daughter is still alive?"

...

To pay for my passage to Shirasagi on the next cargo ship, I was forced to help clean and take turns in the mess hall.

That had been the plan, anyway. My first day on the ship was the busiest. All day I had been running around after the sailors, fetching this or that, making sure the cargo was secure, scrubbing the floors with a mop that seemed likely to snap, then in the evening, cooking dinner.

The sailors had apparently loved my cooking, so that became my duty for the remainder of the voyage. Even the ship's chef, a man I swore was every bit the stereotypical Italian chef, was so impressed with my cooking that through the whole journey he was trying to get me to stay and work with the crew permanently.

Finally, after a week of sailing, the crew actually seemed sad to see me go. Captain Machli personally led me through the docks when I admitted I didn't know the way to the castle, and Chef Moushegh promised he would personally deliver his recommendations of my skills to some of his friends in the castle guards.

So it was that a month later, I was working in the kitchens of Castle Shirasagi, and my time had finally come.

Queen Mikoto and her personal court had apparently noticed an increase in quality of food, and wanted to personally thank the chef responsible.

It would be my first time ever actually getting to see the Hoshidan queen, and my friends in the kitchens were making a big deal of it.

"She's ever so nice!" Araksi gushed, a portly serving girl of 14 who had a beautiful singing voice. "She came by the very first week she was in the castle, you know. She said she wanted to personally get to know every staff member and make as many friends as possible. This was before she'd even married the late King Sumeragi, you know, so nobody knew anything about her and all were ever so wary. That's what mother told me!"

Araksi's mother had worked at the castle before her, apparently, and seemed to have told Araksi something about everything.

Eldegai barked a laugh, resting his cleaning brush against the wall to join in the conversation. He was always looking for an excuse to stop cleaning whenever his supervisor was around. He was thin, but his arms and legs were both heavily muscled, "She doesn't come around much anymore though does she?"

I laughed too. I had heard the story several times, of what had happened a few years ago.

Mikoto had apparently been coming to the kitchen as usual, and was pinching a piece of freshly baked cake when she thought nobody had been looking. But the chefs came back and in her haste to hide her theft, she had dropped the cake and slipped, creating a huge mess and almost falling into the oven. Her retainers and the head chef had forbade the soup stained queen from returning to the kitchen.

Still, all the tales of her many clumsy accidents could not quell the nerves within me. To say I was nervous was an understatement of gross proportions. If the letter inviting me to see the Queen was to be believed, it would not be a simple one-on-one. Many high nobles would be present, and I had to wonder whether that included all of the Hoshidan royal family.

Araksi and Eldegai helped me tidy up my work station, or rather, Araksi chattered about her admiration for various nobles, and Eldegai watched me lazily.

Finally, at noon, Sopheap came bustling in, his drooping whiskers of a moustache grey and grown so long he wore it in a knot at the back of his neck. Instead of his standard green overalls, he wore a formal yukata. He peered at Eldegai, who suddenly seemed interested in scrubbing a small stain on the wall, then frowned at me.

"Get dressed, come on," Sopheap told me, his calloused hands practically pushing me along to the servants' chambers.

In the common room, which was really just where the servants ate, he had assembled a rack of clothes, all fancy and beyond anything I had ever worn. By the time I had been wrestled into a smooth green yukata, more fancy than Sopheap's, I had seen many servants dashing around. Dressers, tailors, makeup artists and hairdressers. I had balked at the idea of wearing any sort of makeup, so Sopheap scowled at me.

It had been a long few hours, but finally Sopheap decided there was nothing else that could be done to make me presentable enough for court.

I had never been to this part of the castle before, but though I wanted to admire the paintings and statues, Sopheap afforded me no time to do so.

The reception room was magnificent, huge even with the long dining table where many people in fancy clothes already sat. The chairs in the centre of the table were empty, and Sopheap bade me sit here, in the chair closest to the door, giving me a view of the large windows overlooking a beautiful garden.

None of the nobles acknowledged my presence, so I took the time to examine the items on the table.

At each placement there was a series of knives, forks, spoons and paper serviettes. Unlit candelabras lined the table, as well as flowers, teapots and the elaborate frills of the table cloth.

A few seats to my left sat a man with a huge chin, layers of fat piled from his neck to his mouth. His entire appearance was of lard and a life of opulence. His eyes were purple, a shade lighter than his long hair which curled into spirals on his massive shoulders. He had a moustache, which shook like a dying caterpillar with every move of his lips.

He was turned to speak to another man beside him, this one looking serious, with his cold, furrowed eyes seeming to analyse everything the people around him were doing wrong. His hair was a dark red.

The doors behind me were opened, and all of the lords and ladies in the room stood, like they had received some silent signal. I stood with them – a peasant amongst nobles – and watched as the royal family entered.

First came Prince Ryoma, as though scouting the room first for his family. He wore his standard armour, plated in red and a mere white cloth, soft as silk but strong as leather. The cloth tied his armour together in the parts that needed more manoeuvrability – his chest and armpits, for example. His armour looked fancy enough for this dinner, I supposed, since it fell around his lithe, muscular frame like a yukata. His sword was at his side – the curved katana at his side was held in a red sheath, but its handle was decorated with the head of a dragon.

Ryoma's long, brown hair was down, and out of the head piece he wore in the game, he looked younger, more like the noble lord he was than the deadly samurai he also could be.

Immediately after Ryoma came the Queen herself. Mikoto looked almost exactly as she had done in the game. Her delicate and fragile frame was adorned in a white dress with a blue collar. The crown atop her head was lustrous in its gold, raising over her head in the crossed circle that served as the Hoshidan emblem.

At her side were two princesses. The youngest, Princess Sakura, wore a similar dress, though hers was framed in a deep rose red. Her dress was wider at the bottom, and not as form-fitting as her step-mother's. Her cherry pink hair, short as it was, was host to a simple white hairband.

She clutched close to the Queen, her nerves evident in the presence of these high lords and ladies. She was a stark contrast to Princess Azura, who walked at Mikoto's other side.

Azura wore a white dress framed with light blue to match her long flowing hair, and a tiny gold trim. The dress split at the sides up to her thighs, showing her slender legs and her bare feet beneath the hem.

While both princesses walked slowly and gently, they were followed by Prince Takumi and Princess Hinoka. Prince Takumi was wearing a white gown, with a blue cloak draped over his shoulders. His silver hair was in a flowing ponytail, and an un-stringed bow hung at his hip, made of something that glowed with an otherworldly light. At its ends, the bow curved into spirals, and a wing design was attached to the middle of the bow. Princess Hinoka, however, looked uncomfortable in her own white and red kimono, her gold-cuffed sleeves draped too long over her hands as she fiddled with her belt. She almost bumped into Takumi when he briefly stopped to greet one of the guests - a tanned woman with blond and white hair.

The royal procession took their seats, with Ryoma at the head of the table and, to my surprise, Queen Mikoto herself sitting across from me, with Azura at her left and Yukimura to her right.

Mikoto smiled at each of the gathered nobles, and when she passed that smile to me, my confusion and worries faded, leaving a deep sense of tranquillity. It felt in that instant as though I had achieved some kind of deep cosmic understanding, though when I pondered on it, the feeling only grew without providing me with answers. Deeper it went, as though I were following the queen's smile through all of space and time, then finally...

A dragon roared. Flames bellowed. Screaming echoed.

I jolted out of the reverie, to find that no time had passed at all.

Queen Mikoto had turned to the other nobles, who I now realised were sitting at this unspoken permission. I took my seat, looking down the lines of lords and ladies, but none seemed to have noticed anything awry. Only...

Why was Princess Azura giving me a thoughtful look?

Finally the last lord sat, and the queen spoke, "My lords and ladies. I am truly honoured that you were all able to make it to court on this day. I apologise that this reception meal is not being held in one of the castle's larger dining halls, but... Ah..."

She faltered and turned to Yukimura, her royal tactician. He nodded and continued her words, "Our most dedicated member of service at the castle was unfortunately prevented from completing his duties. This was unavoidable, however, as this clearly demonstrates the enormous burden we place upon our most esteemed guest here."

Yukimura was suddenly looking at me, I realised. My confusion returned, greater than ever. The strategist was not yet finished, however.

"Derek only joined our staff within the last moon cycle, but it is evident that he has become one of our hardest workers and that we owe him our deepest respect."

I had no idea what he was talking about. My only jobs had been to wash dishes and prepare meals. I wasn't responsible for cleaning the main halls or anything Yukimura continued to list. I felt sick. The other nobles were staring at me. Their expressions were inscrutable, but I could feel them judging me...

A bowl was placed before me filled with some yellowy soup. I noticed that the others had moved on, the royal family already drinking from their own bowls.

The conversation had finished without me, it would seem, but as I lifted my bowl I could hear chatter from all ends of the room.

The meal passed by with me eating very little, though this was less to do with my lack of appetite than it did about the snippets I overheard.

Finally, after the last course, Queen Mikoto stood to thank everybody for coming, and I began to file out of the room with the rest of the people that were not part of the royal family, only to hear my name called from behind.

"Derek, could you please wait a moment?"

I turned. It had been Princess Azura that had spoken. Takumi was glaring at her, but Hinoka and Sakura were looking at her curiously. Queen Mikoto looked away from the final leaving guest to catch Ryoma's eye, and he seemed to take a hint.

"Hinoka, Takumi, Sakura," Ryoma addressed his three younger siblings. "Come. We should ensure our retainers have not burned down the castle."

Sakura giggled as they left, Takumi cracked a smile, and Hinoka sighed.

I was left in the room with Queen Mikoto and Princess Azura. They were both looking at me, but their gazes were too gentle to make me afraid. Rather, I thought, as I sat back in the wooden dining chair, it was highly bizarre.

I had come from a country with a monarchy, but that monarch wielded very little real power. The royal family I knew had been more like a tourist attraction than the real leader of the country. I had seen neither in person, not even knowing the name of my own town's mayor.

Celebrities in general, I suppose, whether their status be political or otherwise, had been as some elusive foreigners to me. I didn't know them, they didn't know me, and never in my life would I ever have expected to be face-to-face in a private conversation with them.

Even now as I looked between this powerful Queen and true Heiress I almost expected them to simply sign their autographs then call for security to have me escorted out.

Almost. I almost expected that.

The rest of me was terrified.

"I must apologise to you, Derek," Queen Mikoto began, looking truly remorseful. "You were not merely called to this meal so that my family and I could thank you for your service. I know that I told some untruths about your role in this castle, but there had been rumours of a possible Nohrian spy working here, and I wanted to quell those rumours."

She paused, glancing to Azura, who seemed to be clenching her fists against her lap tightly.

"Anti-Nohrian sentiments have been growing greatly recently... But you do not seem to possess any Nohrian traits. May I ask where you are from?"

"I'm from..." I paused. I looked at Azura's posture – a clear indication of restraint, and back to Queen Mikoto's face – gentle and nervous.

So that's what this was about.

Queen Mikoto herself was not Hoshidan. By some accounts (primarily the game I had first encountered this world within), Mikoto had arrived in the Hoshidan capital one day and King Sumeragi had instantly fallen in love with her. They were married and he, along with his four children from a previous marriage, had smoothed things over with the public. Mikoto became so well loved that she had inherited the Hoshidan throne uncontested when King Sumeragi was murdered.

Meanwhile in the neighbouring country of Nohr, a mysterious woman had become the new wife of another king, King Garon. The woman was Arete, sister of Mikoto and mother of Azura.

But the forgotten kingdom of Valla still longed for its rightful heirs, Arete and Mikoto, to return and restore the lost lands from Anankos's control.

Arete and Mikoto were fully aware of their birthrights, of course, and apparently Arete had been killed trying to relay this information to her daughter, Azura.

Azura had eventually been brought here to her aunt, and now it seemed they were testing me. I was obviously neither Hoshidan nor Nohrian to these two. But was I from the Invisible Kingdom, or was I simply from one of the lesser countries of this continent.

And they could not simply ask me if I knew of Valla, because Anankos had placed a curse which killed anybody that tried to speak of it.

"I'm from nowhere on the map," I said, trying to be as subtle as I could.

Mikoto smiled, her eyes not giving anything away about my answer, though Azura seemed more curious and somehow more tense.

"I, um..." I added, wanting to clarify and desperately wanting to help these two kind women. "I wish I could tell you more, but... Um... May I ask a question?"

Mikoto nodded to me, "Of course."

"I... I heard that Lady Azura was an excellent singer."

Azura's eyes lit up, though whether with recognition for my implication or simple acknowledgement of my compliment, I was not sure. Then, Mikoto gave her a small nod, and Azura began to sing.

...

Author's Note: So yeah, I had a major time-skip between Bren and Shirasagi, which I didn't want to do, but...

Oh well. My character is in Castle Shirasagi now, and major plans are in motion for the upcoming chapters and involved characters.

Thanks to ScorinVoidseeker for noticing some errors, such as my almost completely forgetting about Hinoka.


	9. Servant

Chapter 8: Servant

A few days later, a knock came on the door of my quarters.

It was early morning, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon. I threw a robe around myself to cover my state of undress and slid open the thin door.

He was a man with messy brown hair, wearing the garb of a Hoshidan monk. His face showed a mischievous amusement with life, his eyes seeming closed as though he never needed to see something in order to make fun of it.

"My, but you servants do get up early, don't you?" he said, his smile not fading. "I'm sure if I was forced to wake up so early, I simply wouldn't be able to cope."

"H-hello..."

"Ah, wait, this can't be right. I came all this way and this early to meet the legendary servant of Shirasagi, and he's not even dressed."

"Uh..." I had received a lot of scorn from the other castle workers when the rumours about what had happened in the meeting had spread. It seemed nobles and servants alike loved to flap their lips.

"S-sorry," I told him. "I was about to get a shower."

"Oh, an excellent idea! I suppose the princess can wait, then! I do suppose you will want to wash those greasy locks before you meet with the princess."

I fingered up my greasy hair consciously. "Princess Hinoka," I asked, realising who this must be.

"Oh, you figured out who I am without my telling you!" Azama, one of Princess Hinoka's two retainers, said, actually sounding somewhat surprised. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet."

He cracked open an eye slightly, and peered into my room, where I had yet to fold up my futon or organise my clothes.

"Or perhaps not."

...

After a quick shower and putting on my formal clothes, I followed Azama to the Royal Wing of the castle. To my great surprise and embarrassment, the meeting was apparently to take place in Princess Hinoka's personal chambers. Fortunately, there was a reception area before her actual bedroom, but being in a noble's private rooms made me scared beyond reason.

The reception room was occupied by a low table, and as I kneeled on a cushion, I took a moment to look around the room.

A weapons rack stood on one wall, across from a window overlooking the gardens. Most of the weapons were naginata – long and fierce blades attached to even longer poles, though one of them was broken.

There were pictures too, and what appeared to be a poem written in the traditional Hoshidan language – illegible to me, and only taught to nobles as it had been mostly replaced by the common tongue. The paintings were more interesting though.

They depicted Hinoka's family and friends. Two were framed, and sat on what looked to be a ceremonial altar. One was a picture of a young child, still a baby, though its eyes were red and its hair, just starting to grow, was an ethereal silver. The other was of King Sumeragi, a man I had seen on many pictures throughout the castle.

Princess Hinoka entered, and Azama bowed to her then left.

"My lady..." I began, but Hinoka interrupted.

"No need for that nonsense here. Call me Hinoka for now."

I nodded, reluctantly, and she continued.

"I won't keep you long," she promised. "It's just... After I saw you the other day, I've had this nagging feeling that I'd met you before."

"Um... I was at Mister Phoros's farm." I told her.

"Hm..." she thought on this for a few moments, then nodded with understanding. "Of course. I remember now."

Hinoka didn't seem willing to say anything else, instead seeming thoughtful, so I spoke up.

"D-did you find Set- um, who you were looking for?"

"You knew I was looking for Setsuna?" Hinoka frowned, picking up on my slip of the tongue.

"Uh..." I cursed inwardly. "I-I mean... She's your retainer, and..."

"Her reputation precedes her," Hinoka finished with a grimace. "Still, I'm sorry I was so suspicious of you. With Nohrian brigands constantly trying to find their way across the border..."

"It's fine," I replied.

"Thanks for your work though," Hinoka said. "I'll have Azama escort you back to your duties, if you want."

I stood, taking that as a cue to leave, "Thanks. I know the way back though."

...

Maybe if I had accepted Azama's escort I wouldn't have been approached by the next person to have suspicions about my identity.

"Hold."

The voice seemed to come from nowhere at first, but then I was enveloped in shadow, and when it cleared, a red-haired ninja stood, his arms crossed. Elbow blades stuck out, making him seem bigger, and his scarred eye gave him a frightful look.

"You may have fooled Queen Mikoto, but don't think you're about to get away with anything and everything."

I wanted to look away from the mangled mess that was his eye, but his face yielded no mercy. Looking to his other eye felt a mistake, for it was red and piercing. The lower half of his face was a black canvas of mask, and each strand of his hair only seemed to point back to those hideous scars.

Still, I looked at him, nonplussed. I'd had similar remarks from my colleagues, many of whom had been friendly with me before, and I had no reply to offer them.

"Hmph, not going to say anything? Fine. Just know that you're being watched."

I wondered, as I had when many of my superiors made similar comments, why Saizo would bother to tell me I was under such scrutiny. Had I actually been planning on making a move against the Hoshidan crown, I was much less likely to be discovered with the knowledge that my every move was being watched.

"I... I only want to help Princess Azura."

"Azura?" Saizo glared at me. "I should have suspected you Nohrians would stick together."

"I'm not..." I began, but the ninja interrupted.

"Save it. Nohrian, Nestrian, Izumite. It does matter. You could even truly be a Hoshidan. All I know is that Queen Mikoto lied about your duties. I don't know why she would tell such an obvious lie, nor do I care. There's something going on here, and it's being investigated. Sooner or later... Your time here is limited."

Saizo left me, disappearing as quickly as he'd appeared. Looking around yielded no sign of him, but as I made my way back to the kitchens, I swore I felt every shadow staring at me.

...

I barely needed Saizo's threat. My ruin was no fault of his, though it came a mere week after he had said those words.

In the central gardens of the castle stood a proud fountain. Water erupted from the centre, then cascaded in a wide circle to the middle ring of water, where it was streamed to the outer ring, which would periodically jet the water through the cascade and into the fountain's centre.

It had been designed by Yukimura, apparently, but recently the outer jets had been unsynchronised. Personally, I enjoyed the way the water would seem to shudder its way lopsidedly into the centre. It made it more random, and more fun to guess when enough water was actually in the centre for the volcanic spray.

However, my duty was to take the scrolls and take them to the magic guild in the city, who would rewrite the runes which ran the fountain. I couldn't pretend to understand the mechanics – they had not been explained to me, and I doubted my ability to understand even if they had.

The scrolls were between cracks in the stone, where they would not get too wet or easily damaged. They were made of a tougher material than paper, and more water-resistant too.

They felt almost greasy in my fingers, like the greaseproof paper I had used for baking in my own world. The runes on them were indecipherable... Until I truly examined them.

The letters were similar to Japanese, though they were more cursive and the lines were similar to no Japanese text I had seen. Not that I understood Japanese. Japanese characters had always looked like random shapes and scribbles to me, but if my experience reading the books of Valla meant anything, it was that somehow, I knew what the letters meant.

This one, it meant "water". Combined with that letter, it was "fountain". There, that was "up" and another to mean "down".

Except... I could also see the problem. The "up" characters were smudged on some of them. Surely, that would be a simple fix?

No, it wouldn't. There were many problems with this fountain.

When the wind blew too hard, the fountain would miss the centre and splash against the castle walls and over the flower beds. The flowers would often drown in the deluge. There was no anchoring in the spells. With an anchoring spell, the water would be forced to return to the fountain.

If anything fell in the fountain, that was another problem. A nearby tree often shed its leaves in this direction, and leaves in the fountain confused the magic scrolls such that they began flinging the fountain's contents any which way. Harmless in the case of leaves, but more solid objects flung at the castle windows or passers-by...

A shielding spell, perhaps? Aimed inwards, trapping things in rather than out?

That was doable. It only needed a couple of interlocking spells.

That anchoring spell would be the problem. With water gravitating towards the centre of the fountain, the jet spells' power would be greatly reduced. A solution? Increase the launch power.

I pulled the last scroll free, and took them to my room, rather than the magic guild.

I still visited the magic guild, but only to borrow one of their pens. Writing a magical scroll required a specific ink and quill.

My improvements to the fountain worked perfectly... For all of 2 seconds.

The water jets exploded furiously each time they were due to run. The water crashed against the shield, and broke it, then the next jets did worse. Holes were punched through stone, glass, wood... The garden was in shambles.

I removed the scrolls hurriedly, determined to stop their devastation, but the damage was already plain to see.

Guards came to investigate the noise mere moments before I wrenched the last scroll out.

They stared at the ruined garden, then to me.

I held the bundle of sodden papers and looked back at them.

One raised his naginata at me, and I dropped the papers. Anankos's gift was in my hand then, scanning the threat, but the red dot on the map behind my location made me turn.

Saizo held a throwing star to my throat, but his other hand went lower. Bemused, I watched his hand enter the gaping hole in my torso, where the water's power had shot a hole straight through me.

"Not Hoshidan," Saizo muttered. "Nor even human."

...

A part of me preferred the cell I had been given over the sleeping quarters of the servants. A small part, yes, but that part of me was not without reason.

The lack of technological or otherwise Earth amenities was not a fact lost on me. I had dreadfully missed talking to friends on the internet or playing games on my laptop. Even my lack of a 3DS to play and tire my mind at night had been an issue which still irked me.

Knowing I was in a prison made those losses make a little more sense. I didn't know much about life in prisons back home, but at the very least that small part of my mind thought that prisoners were unlikely to receive such creature comforts.

Even the unwashed and broken bucket made more sense in this situation than the primitive privy of the palace.

Still, I retched once more at the smell of it. I didn't have the best sense of smell; often I failed to smell things right beneath my nose, but this smell was a different sort.

The few times I had dared to use it so far, I had been sure to hold my hands over my nose, standing to ensure I was as far as possible from it. Otherwise I did my business in the other corner, which didn't smell half so bad, for that bucket engulfed the entire dungeon.

I sat as I always did, with my body pressed against the bars of the cell. It was furthest from those corners here, though it helped little. Perhaps in some ways, the constant reminder of the metal on my flesh was worse, making where I was that much more real.

Another small part of me had once likened these prison bars to my childhood. At primary school, where I had been bullied and friendless, that had seemed a prison at times too – we would even have to line up neatly for the teachers to count at the end of break times. I had spent most playtimes out by the front of the school, at the very edge of the yard, holding to and looking through the green metal fence.

Had that fence been meant to keep the children in, or strangers out? Most often it had felt like it was designed to keep me in. I had known how to open it, as it was rarely locked, but still I had never left.

That comparison had been crushed inside me though.

This was nothing like that. Perhaps I could still escape if I wanted to, but I had nowhere to go, and it would be more than a few angry teachers or my frightened mother to answer to.

I broke down for a few hours again. Don't think of her... It was too hard. Don't think of her...

...

My situation was unchanged.

The torches down here were different to the ones in the palace. These ones never went out, and seemed to not need changing so much.

The prisoner in the cell opposite mine had let me know that the lights never went out due to ancient spell works. The constant light was to make prisoners more uncomfortable, as it made sleep harder and the passage of time harder to tell. It also let guards keep an easier eye on us when they walked through.

The guards were given special nose plugs in their helmets, the same prisoner had also informed me, so that they didn't have to smell anything.

Unfortunately, that had been the last thing he said to me, as he'd been talking when a guard was present. The guard let him know what I was, and thereafter he seemed to have forgotten about my existence.

I didn't know what he was in here for, but I supposed it must have been something fairly minor, as the guards were kind enough to him when they came with the rations of food. His meals were bigger than mine, and more frequent, but just as irregular.

They kept the meals irregular to help with that mystery of how much time had passed. More fool them, though.

The tactical touchscreen device Anankos had given me (I'd named it Jake once, then thought that was silly but the name had stuck) was a wellspring of knowledge, not just strategic data.

In this dungeon, the second most valuable piece of information Jake gave me was the time, in 24 hours. But by far even better was the world map.

I had zoomed in on a part of Nohr, and had been following the movements of several blue dots. If those dots were what I thought they were...

"Is your hand interesting?" a voice asked.

I looked up, and saw Yukimura. He wore a nose plug, making his voice more nasal and difficult to place, and scowled down at me through his glasses and the bars.

Dimly, I was aware of my neighbouring prisoners' eyes on me as I stood up to face him.

"I thought I should at least congratulate you on your attempt to improve my fountain design," Yukimura began. "Although I'm having dreadful nightmares dealing with the repairs for all you destroyed."

I looked away. Why had I fiddled with the spells? I was no mage, and even if I could understand the language it was still a foreign one.

"And congratulations are in order for your guesswork, I suppose," he smirked at my dull blink to that. "Our scouts did indeed report signs of life in Nohr's Northern Fortress."

Oh, now I understood. At the meeting with Queen Mikoto and Princess Azura, I had told them about the Northern Fortress where Princess Corrin was held. But there was more I told them, and I saw something now in Yukimura's eyes.

"Captured?" I croaked. My voice hoarse from lack of use. "Kaze and Rinkah?"

Yukimura frowned at me, though now his face showed more surprise and curiosity than anger. Was I not supposed to know the scouts' names? I couldn't remember. I had suggested sending somebody fleet of foot and somebody strong to back them up, and perhaps that one of the two could be from a region of questionable loyalty. Giving somebody like that a mission of importance could show trust and thus improve their further loyalty.

And if, by chance, I was wrong and the mission was a waste of time, the two could become friendly enough to strengthen the army with their bond.

"And if," I had said, "The worst should be true? If perhaps I am your enemy and this is some trap? Well... Then you'll know, won't you?"

I had let Queen Mikoto weigh my words, and my life, but it seemed she had chosen to place her trust in me.

Still, Yukimura's anger was back, and I knew what had happened.

So far, with the few major moves I'd made in this world, I'd only been following the script of the game, and even then, a pre-script. We weren't even on Chapter One so the events I'd set in motion were only events that happened anyway, but in the game due to luck.

That had been an idea I'd had instantaneously upon first viewing Jake at the Bottomless Canyon, but my idea had worked.

I had enough clout now for my next move, even if Yukimura would hate me for it.

Could I make that move? Did I have the courage? I never would have back home, but I no longer had a home. Perhaps it was my hunger from prison food and nausea from the smell, or my fear of all, but something emboldened me well enough.

Yukimura opened his mouth to say something further, but I beat him to it.

"Does Queen Mikoto know I am here?" then without waiting for an answer, "Tell her, and tell her why. Tell her I wish to be retainer to Princess Azura."

If he was surprised by my uncharacteristic outburst, Yukimura hid it well with a sneer, "And why should I deliver any messages from a chained monster to the Queen?"

"Because," I said, and took a huge risk, "Arete wept for Cadros."

...

Author's Note: I let things really pick up here... possibly due to my absence over the last month. I didn't have internet access due to moving house, so I did take a bit of the opportunity it presented to write ahead a bit more.

Anyway, if you're interested in the timeline of the real Fates plot, at this point it should be more or less clear that it's around Chapter 1 (Nohr) or Chapter 2 (Gift of Ganglari). This will be clarified, of course, but...

Also I'll reiterate that I'm mainly writing this story just to have fun. If others enjoy it too, all the better. But I did enjoy the fountain scene in this chapter, and the prison scene ended up being more fun than I thought it'd be too.


	10. Freedom

Chapter 9: Freedom

The next day, I was taken from the cell, roughly washed, and heavily escorted to see the Queen.

According to Jake, the guards were above my capabilities to take down. They were well trained in naginata, and some of them were katana wielding samurai too. They refused to speak to me, though I didn't mind so much. They were reluctant to leave me alone in the throne room with Queen Mikoto, so they silently bound my hands in shackles, and chained my legs together so I could not pull them far enough apart to run.

And when Mikoto looked down at me from her serene place on that high golden chair, I truly wanted to run. Her face was impassive, giving nothing away, her eyes blazing with something unrecognisable as she scrutinised me.

"You didn't fully tell us what you knew, before," she said at length.

It was then I realised that this was going to be a very difficult question. Neither of us could speak too plainly.

"I didn't show my hand, but I have many more cards," I said, trying to sound cool. I'd practiced that line in the dungeons.

Her lip twitched. Perhaps it didn't sound cool in my voice...

"All good ones, I hope," she said, then stood and came to stand before me. I watched, silent, as she descended the stairs from her throne, so it was she that spoke first.

"I would see the rest of your cards too. Here and now."

I nodded, and began, "I came to this world from another, that's true. Two others, in fact."

"Two?"

"One which you know. But I was a stranger to that world too. I... Where I come from, you and both worlds you know were just a story."

Her frown deepened, but after she said nothing, I realised she wanted me to elaborate.

"I was... I was born on a world called Earth, in a country called England," I began. "People there never developed magical talents, but that didn't mean there were no stories about magic.

One of these stories was about a Prince named Marth, who fought to reclaim his lost kingdom from an evil sorcerer. The story was called "Fire Emblem"," the Queen's face did not change. "The story was popular enough, so the crea- the author wrote another story, then another, and another.

I think it was the fourteenth story which made reference to countries called Nohr and Hoshido." Still no reaction. Either Mikoto had an incredible poker face or I was terrible at picking up on minor cues. "This ga- story was about a Princess named Corrin, who was destined to reclaim her true birthright, fend off a conquest and reveal the true hidden enemy."

I let her parse these words before she spoke.

"I wish we did not need to speak of the true enemy in such a roundabout way, " she confessed, seeming to drop her frown. "Still, if you know, and your information thus far has been accurate, does the story tell how to prevail?"

I paused. Fire Emblem Fates had three storylines, but only one of these truly confronted Anankos.

"The story showed... One possible way of defeating... I mean... One way to save the world. But there are factors that changed the outcome in some versions of the story." She didn't seem to fully grasp that, so I addressed the other elephant in the room, "The main problem is that I shouldn't be here. I wasn't a character in the story I know.

The only things I've changed so far are, hopefully, all things that should have happened anyway. Perhaps something was about to happen to convince you to send scouts into Nohr, but... I sped that up. My presence here could have any number of outcomes... And I do want to make some changes."

Mikoto approached me, "If everything has happened as it should, what happens next in your story?"

I hesitated, "Kaze and Rinkah were captured by King Garon. He will sentence them to death, but give the duty to Princess Corrin. She will refuse, and be given a new task to prove her loyalty. She will travel to the Bottomless Canyon to check on an abandoned fort, on the Hoshidan side."

I frowned, "Omozu."

Mikoto seemed puzzled by my sudden mention of a random name, so I clarified.

"There's a Hoshidan force at that supposedly abandoned fortress, led by a man named Omozu."

Mikoto pondered this, "I shall have to check with Yukimura. Still, please continue."

"After being forced to kill Omozu, Corrin and her friends are ambushed and pushed into the Bottomless Canyon, only to be saved at the last moment. Rinkah then captures Corrin and brings her to you."

Mikoto's eyes closed, and she remained like that for several minutes before opening them and looking at me. She wordlessly wanted me to continue.

"King Garon gave Princess Corrin a cursed sword and the sword... It... Uh..."

At long last, Mikoto smiled, but it's a sad one. "I believe you. Still, let us make the most of your information. Perhaps we can make some of your "changes"?"

...

I found myself wondering about home, again. I may not have liked it at my mother's boyfriend's house, but I miss my mother. I missed being able to retreat into video games to take my mind off my situation and help me get to sleep.

Still, as I woke and wiped unshed tears from my eyes, I was still resolved to sort this world out, at least a little, before I tried to return to my world. The face of the dying human half of Anankos swam to my mind as I began to wonder why I wanted to help, but... There was another, more pragmatic reason.

I had determined that the best chance I had of finding my way back home would require me to be stronger.

Fire Emblem Awakening was the game released prior to Fates, and one of the morning locations in that game had been the Outrealm Gate. This had been the place players had to go in order to buy and access downloadable content, but these DLCs were given an in-universe explanation.

Outrealms were like alternate worlds, where the other Fire Emblem games took place, or where alternative timelines could be explored.

With potentially infinite timelines, and my knowledge of multiverse theory, it stood to reason that my world would be accessible through the Outrealm Gate too. Or at least through the Dragon's Gate, the equivalent in the world of Fates.

Unfortunately, the Dragon's Gate was on the other side of the Bottomless Canyon in Nohr. Perhaps I could have made it across and to the Gate, but Nohr was more violent than Hoshido, and food sources more scarce. So I'd have a better chance of getting to the Gate safely if I could fend for myself.

It didn't hurt matters that Queen Mikoto, who radiated a peaceful aura, reminded me of my own mother.

After my second meeting with the Queen, I'd been placed in a room down the hall from hers, though Yukimura insisted on placing guards down the hall's length. I didn't fault his wariness, or his doubling of the patrols – even the Queen made sure to stay a respectable distance away from me. They had all seen the unnatural way my body healed.

An armed escort always followed me, wherever I went. I forgot their names, but the pink haired mage and the short ginger with an axe refused to remind me. They did not speak to me, though I had heard them laughing and joking together while off duty.

My time in this part of the palace was rather nice, all things considered. I had full access to the library, and though I couldn't leave the central palace, where the Queen's family lived, I at least didn't have to cook or clean after myself.

There were challenges, of course, like at dinner, the night after I was released from prison.

Queen Mikoto had needed to explain my situation, or at least part of it, to her family.

"Derek will stay here because he is something else. He has capabilities which make him an ideal weapon – yes, a weapon," she held a hand against her children's objections. "He has promised to help, since he has knowledge of the enemy."

Unsurprisingly, Takumi was the most displeased, "He knows Nohr? I knew he couldn't be trusted!"

Hinoka was in agreement, "Mother, we'd heard this man had been arrested. Now you're willing to believe in a criminal."

"Please, Takumi, Hinoka. Trust my wisdom on this. Derek is... No ordinary person."

"Mother..." Ryoma spoke, his voice quiet, but tone so displeased that his siblings looked at him in surprise. It was not like Ryoma to question Queen Mikoto's judgement. "It displeases me too, to have a Nohrian and a criminal sitting here at our table, but I do trust you on those matters. Still... You called him a weapon."

Mikoto did not shift, her face calm and impassive, "I did. I have no intention of beginning any wars, but King Garon may not hold his troops back for much longer. With each day that passes, his most experienced mages are sure to be furthering their studies. It will only be a matter of time before they find some way to breach my barrier."

Sakura exchanged a worried look with Takumi at that.

"Derek is going to be trained at a border fort. I am sending Lady Reina to escort him. We are also expecting intelligence to arrive from two scouts we sent into Nohr, following a lead from Derek here."

The princes and princesses were not pleased, but were at least relieved I wouldn't be around Castle Shirasagi for much longer.

...

Kinshi were beautiful beasts – massive birds with almost glittery golden feathers, but I'd decided I did not much enjoy riding them.

When I met Reina, she was the first person not to treat me as a monster. Rather than reacting with fear or disgust upon a demonstration of my unnatural healing and resistance to pain, she instead seemed fascinated.

When Queen Mikoto informed Reina that she was to take me to the border, the blue haired woman had smiled at me.

"Have you ever flown upon a kinshi?" she had asked me.

"No..."

"Seating wise, it's not too different from riding a horse. Have you ridden a horse before?"

"No..."

Reina's smile had only seemed to grow wider at that, "Oh my! Well, not to worry," she had assured me. "I'll be sure to fly gently for you."

Perhaps Reina simply didn't know the meaning of the word "gentle" – the flight was anything but.

"Hmm, I think we could have gone faster. Let's just call that a record to beat, shall we?"

Reina was talking to her kinshi more than me, though I couldn't hear her much. I was much too busy trying to stop the world from spinning.

We had flown at what must have been incredible speeds, but Reina had also insisted on trying to make my first flight as memorable as possible. As soon as we'd left the city of Shirasagi, we entered a forest. The densely packed branches had slapped against us as we whipped this way then that, only to break through the canopy and rise so high that the kinshi's wings began to falter.

We fell back down, and when we'd righted ourselves, Reina had given a great whoop of exhilaration. We flew from village to village, and Reina demonstrated just how agile her kinshi could be by flying straight at almost every tall building we passed, then only swerving around when the wall was close enough to touch.

Once I regained my balance, I got a chance to examine our surroundings.

The Bottomless Canyon... When I'd left here after parting ways with Owain, Inigo and Severa – or rather, Odin, Laslow and Selena – I hadn't paid much mind to this place, but it certainly was odd. The canyon had been wide enough there that I couldn't see the other side, but here, it was like looking across a road. Four cars could probably have passed side by side here, were it not for the gaping black rift.

A wooden plank bridge spanned the canyon, and that bridge almost seemed the only thing to indicate that both sides of the canyon were part of the same world. Where I stood on the Hoshidan side, the ground was green and lush with grass. Trees grew tall, proud and leafy, but their counterparts on the Nohrian side were short and shrivelled. Gnarled black roots had crawled their way out of coarse dark dirt.

The sky was striking. An invisible line seemed to split light and dark directly over the canyon. Over Hoshido, clouds appeared white, and the sky glistened a calm blue, but over Nohr, the dark clouds seemed to threaten danger, and the sky was a dull, lifeless grey.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Reina asked, joining me in daytime stargazing. "How is your arm?"

On one of the flight's mad swerves around a tower, Reina had reached behind herself to grab my left arm with her own, and thrust it out. My arm had hit the side of a church tower and crunched the bones, making my arm flop uselessly to my side. My right hand held extra tightly onto the bindings holding me in place after that, for fear she might try to grab that one too.

Now though, she marvelled at my wounded arm, watching as I struggled to regain control of it. It had healed enough for me to weakly flex my fingers, but moving the arm was impossible. When I reached to touch it, it sent spikes of pain shooting into my chest.

"Amazing! You've healed even that much," Reina grinned. "I do apologise for injuring you though. I must confess it was a request from Yukimura that we at least attempt to injure you... Just in case you should still be planning to betray Hoshido."

I frowned at her, which only seemed to amuse the middle-aged woman. Still, she guided me to the nearby fort, where we found a group of Hoshidans among them.

"Lady Reina," greeted a soldier, "Our scouts saw you land. Master Omozu will be with you shortly."

Reina offered her thanks, and the soldier took over by leading us inside and up a staircase to a meeting room. The walls throughout the castle were plain, old stone, but despite its age, it was clear that the stone was good quality. The table, a fine varnished wood, was chipped but still sturdy, and the cushion seats were fraying, but still brightly patterned. The entire fort here was old and rarely used, but it was still made from fine, Hoshidan materials.

A woman was already seated at the table, holding a steaming mug of green tea in her tanned hands. Her upper body was almost bare, barely covered by wrappings that looked so much like bandages I felt indecent being in the same room as her. Around her neck she wore a chain of beads, and in her white hair she wore some sort of mask or crown, which seemed to be connected to a short mane of red behind her head.

"Lady- uh... Miss... Um... Rinkah!" the soldier didn't seem sure what to call her, but Rinkah at least saved the soldier any further embarrassments.

"Yes," she snapped, "There's no need to announce it. I can already see Reina's here."

The soldier sniffed, as though in rage or sadness, then bowed low and fled the room.

Reina took a cushion opposite Rinkah. I followed suit.

"Rinkah, it's good to see you in one piece," Reina told her. "But, I know your ways. Straight to business. Are you delivering the report?"

Rinkah glared at her, then seemed to change her mind and glare at me instead, "I wasn't supposed to be, but..."

I flinched, and not just from the angry look. I'd instructed two people be sent on this mission...

"Well, Kaze and I arrived in Nohr just fine, about a month back. We even found that fortress in the north we were looking for, but we got caught. We were in their dungeons only a few days before they gave us back our weapons and told us to fight for our lives. And the damned Dusk lickers themselves were watching!"

"... And?" prompted Reina, when it seemed Rinkah was more willing to fume over her memories than reveal them.

"Hah!" Rinkah snorted. "Well, we found her. Princess Corrin. The King told her to beat us black and blue, so she did. He told her to kill us and... She refused. She helped us escape, so the King was furious. If he ever lets her leave her ivory tower again, I'll join the Ice Tribe."

"Still, you found her! That's wonderful!" Reina gushed, "When Queen Mi-"

"Where's Kaze?" I interrupted, fearing the answer.

"Infirmary, I think," Rinkah shrugged carelessly. "Since we got here, he decided he'd help restock the medicines, so he's been gathering herbs and making himself useful."

"But no medicine tonight, I fear," a voice informed us. A handsome man with green hair appeared, emerging from the shadows. He was clad in dark cloth, with blades attached to his wrists. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

"Lady Reina," Kaze bowed to her in greeting. "And you must be Derek. My name is Kaze... I assume you will have met my brother."

I nodded, just relieved that nobody had died or been injured on my orders. Kaze's twin brother, Saizo, already hated me enough as it was.

"Rinkah was just telling us about your escape," Reina told the more genial twin.

"That's right," Kaze nodded. "Once we left Krakenburg, we came straight here and gave our intelligence to Captain Omozu. We have every Hoshidan fort along the Canyon on high alert, and we made certain our spies in Nohr were given a mission brief..." Kaze paused, staring at me. "We did receive word that you would be taking charge from here?"

I cleared my throat, and began, "Well, all we can do is wait, unfortunately, but... Um... Princess Corrin should be escorted by two of her retainers, and a guy who... the king released from prison to keep an eye on her."

"Two retainers... Men named Jakob and Gunter, yes?"

Rinkah grunted in annoyance at Kaze's words.

"Yes... I recommend keeping an eye on the other man though. Perhaps capture him, if possible?"

"I see..." Kaze nodded, closing his eyes. "We will trust your judgement on this. Yukimura sent us a letter saying you had some precognitive abilities. I'm usually quite sceptical of soothsaying, but given that the Queen herself has expressed trust in you, I shall do likewise."

Reina laughed, "Didn't you once make a similar statement to Orochi?"

"Perhaps I did, though I'm also well aware of her penchant for pranks and troublemaking."

"She is a minx at that!" Reina smiled. "What about you, Rinkah?"

"What about me?" Rinkah shrugged. "I'll follow the Queen's orders until I get new ones from the Flame Chieftain."

...

Omozu was friendly, once you proved yourself useful. For me, I once again found myself in a kitchen, and there was a surprise waiting for me.

"Prince Ryoma's retainer, Saizo, had been asking around while you were in prison! He found out that we were your friends when you first arrived, and he kept asking us what you were like!" Araksi told me, hardly pausing to breathe, "We said so many nice things about you, you should have heard us!"

"Sorry we started avoiding you after your dinner with the Queen," Eldegai shrugged, "Most of the other staff were jealous, and, well... We didn't wanna be ignored too."

"It's fine," I assured them, hesitating before patting Araksi's head when I saw her teary eyes. "But how are you here?"

"It was Eldegai's idea! Completely brilliant!" Araksi explained. "He went before Yukimura himself and told him that we really wanted to apologise to you in person, so he asked him if he wanted to help defend Hoshido too. And when he said yes, he had both of us sent here!"

"I thought he was punishing us at first. We left a couple of weeks ago, and only arrived yesterday. It wasn't until then that we learned you were actually coming here too."

"And guess what?" Araksi squealed, "We're going to be receiving training from the soldiers here too!"

"Not sure what weapons we should really use though," Eldegai shrugged. "They all just feel so foreign to hold."

"Oh!" I suddenly had an idea, pulling Jake from my pocket to scan them.

"Araksi Berberian. Born Shirasagi, 1989 FC.

Class: Apothecary, Level: One.

HP: 19/19

Strength: 5

Magic: 1

Skill: 5

Speed: 3

Luck: 5

Defence: 7

Resistance: 1

Movement: 5

Weapon Ranks: Bows-E, Yumi-E"

So Araksi was apparently best suited to use bows, or rather their Hoshidan equivalent – Yumi. I scanned Eldegai next.

"Eldegai Baihingor. Born Shirasagi, 1988 FC.

Class: Oni Savage, Level: One.

HP: 17/17

Strength: 7

Magic: 0

Skill: 4

Speed: 7

Luck: 3

Defence: 5

Resistance: 2

Movement: 5

Weapon Ranks: Axes-E, Clubs-E"

And Eldegai was categorised as an Oni Savage... That meant that, like me, he could use axes or clubs. Being Hoshidan, he'd probably prefer to use clubs though.

They weren't paying attention to me anymore, instead having decided to get back to work. I joined them shortly.

We chatted as we worked, or rather, the two Hoshidans would chatter away while I piped in to ask questions or answer them.

"Springtime Memories."

"No, that was the dark and scary one."

"It wasn't really scary, but Gontran was definitely in Springtime Memories."

"Okay, but it wasn't that one. It was the one where he played the guard who turned evil."

"Yeah, Springtime Memories."

"No, it had that line about knives in it."

"'A man afraid wields hidden blade.'"

"Yes! That was it," Araksi nodded. "Was that really Springtime Memories?"

"Yes," Eldegai said, rolling his eyes at me. "They were performing it for free outside Miss Nazli's."

Araksi smiled, "That's just the sort of thing Gontran would do! He's ever so nice!"

"It wasn't Gontran. It was just a tribute act by some fans who'd memorised all of the lines."

"Oh," Araksi said, disappointed. "Was it any good?"

"Almost as good as the real thing, apparently," Eldegai laughed. "Anyway, that's who Gontran Douaron is."

I nodded, stirring mushrooms and onions in a pan.

...

A week passed in much the same way each day.

Each morning, at the crack of what passed for dawn at the Bottomless Canyon outpost, we'd get up and check on the night staff, then shower, prepare the fort's breakfast and eat with the rest of the day staff.

On the first day of training, I had asked a red haired archer to watch Araksi, and he had eventually agreed to train her. I had intended to do something similar with Eldegai, but there were no soldiers trained with axes or clubs in the fort. Instead, I decided to partner up with him instead.

We took turns swinging at each other and blocking, trying to pull off ridiculous moves and copy the other fighters' techniques. Clubs of course, are blunt tools that cannot cut like swords or stab like lances, but that didn't stop our fun.

Fun was perhaps not something we should have been considering when training for an imminent war, but Jake did confirm we were getting stronger. The device converted things we could feel, like our continued abilities to work out for longer, or run slightly faster, into easily measurable numbers and stats.

And then, the week was over, and midway into the next one...

"Positions! They're here!"

...

A/N: Decided to overhaul a lot of what I'd written and planned ahead so I can actually get to the good bits? Cos, come on. Chapter 10 and Corrin hasn't even gotten to Hoshido yet? What is this? Charles Dickens?

No. Charles Dickens spends an entire two pages describing a single damn door, but stuff still happens.


	11. Canyon

Chapter 10: Canyon

I took my place atop the fortress beside Kaze to watch the battle. Kaze was Plan C, or D. He was just here as a backup in case another backup plan didn't work. Plan A was just taking effect now.

Across the canyon, I could just barely make out four figures, one on horseback. One of our soldiers crossed the bridge to talk to them, and then silence reigned.

After that brief pause, however...

One of the figures lunged at our soldier, but before the blow was landed, our pegasus knights swooped in from high above to grab both that figure and our soldier.

Our soldier was returned safely to our side of the canyon via pegasus express, but the other knight seemed to be struggling to land.

A scream.

Blood sprayed from the air, and then the pegasus rider fell, her body limp as she fell into the depths of the canyon.

Her eyes pierced me, cold and dead as she fell out of view.

"Filthy Hoshidans!" the man who had been captive shouted from the pegasus he'd stolen. "You want to fight dirty, and I'll show you real pain!"

He was wrestling the pegasus closer to our fort, though the beast was doing all it could to buck him off.

"Plan B!" I shouted, almost before I knew I'd opened my mouth.

Immediately, our archers took aim at the pegasus and its bloodthirsty rider.

"Loose!" was shouted somewhere down below, almost lost in the rallying cries of our soldiers charging onto the bridge. I saw Araksi down with the archers, her own bow shaking.

A volley of arrows headed for the flying horse. Some hit, piercing wing and flank. Not enough to bring it down. But when the pegasus did land on an island in the centre of the canyon, it seemed too injured to get back up.

Hans leapt off the mount to face our soldiers head on. He seemed unbeatable; his strength insurmountable, as he flung our best soldiers aside.

The figures across the canyon were not idle. They rushed to help their unwilling ally, and soon our soldiers were being badly outmatched.

"Bridge!" Omozu shouted.

Our soldiers on the island heard, and rushed back across the wooden bridge. The enemy started to chase, but with another cry of "Loose!" the Nohrians were forced to take shelter in some trees.

Once our last surviving soldier had crossed, two others slashed the ropes, sending the bridge swinging and useless.

The Nohrians emerged. Or rather, three of them did. Hans, it seemed, had disappeared. Perhaps I cursed aloud, rather than in my head, for Kaze looked at me then. "Derek, is it my turn?"

I nodded, and he dashed down the tower towards the ground.

Omozu, meanwhile, had approached where the bridge had stood.

"Stop this fighting!" he commanded, and one of the enemy did lower their sword. Now that they were closer, I could see them more clearly.

On the left was a man with a silver ponytail. His clothes were neat and his face cross. On the right, an older man, in his fifties, who was heavily armoured in dark metal, and rode a horse.

And in the centre, wearing black and white, was their leader. Her white hair fluttered in the light breeze of the canyon. Contrasting her pure appearance though, her sword hummed with shadowy and sinister magic.

"We don't wish to fight!" she replied to Omozu's command. "Our ally, Hans, began this fight against our wishes, and for that, we apologise." She paused, before continuing, "However, we do need to claim that fort! I will not disappoint my father."

"This fort belongs to Hoshido," Omozu replied. "To take it by force would be tantamount to an act of war!"

Princess Corrin hesitated, looking distraught, "I... My older brother always told me that war between our two countries was inevitable. But I don't want to be the cause of it."

"Then perhaps a trade?" Omozu suggested.

"A...?" Princess Corrin's eyes lit up, "Yes! What must we give you?"

"Yourselves. Let us take the three of you captive as compensation for your attacking our soldiers today, and we will leave this fort."

"I..."

"Milady, please tell me you're not considering this!" the ponytailed man objected. "You are no mere prisoner to be used as a bargaining chip."

"I must agree, Princess," the older man spoke. "Such a choice would greatly displease your siblings, not to mention how His Majesty your father would react."

I looked over the canyon, and saw with relief that Rinkah was in position and ready to strike – her white hair was just barely visible. I fervently hoped that Kaze had made it to the next crossing and would be in his position shortly.

Princess Corrin seemed to have made a decision, "Jakob, Gunter, lay down your weapons. We came with the intention of taking this castle and I aim to stay true to that goal. I have enough faith in the goodness of people that these Hoshidans will treat us well and let us go before long."

Gunter and Jakob protested loudly, but they acquiesced to their lady's request and placed their weapons down, Gunter dismounting his horse too.

"Thank you, Princess," Omozu bowed, lowering his shuriken. "We will escort you across the Canyon at a bridge to the north, and then we will evacuate this fort as we take you to the capital of Hoshido."

Princess Corrin nodded. Hoshidan soldiers led by Kaze approached shortly, and began leading her as Omozu had promised.

I was pleased. The plan had gone better than I had hoped. Princess Corrin had visibly relaxed upon seeing the familiar face of Kaze.

I was now at the north bridge with Omozu, watching Kaze and Princess Corrin's groups cross. There were just a couple of loose ends here to tie up, and right on cue, as they neared the bridge's centre...

"Corrin!"

A small dragon came hurtling through the air, its rider a black-clad woman with purple hair. She swooped in to grab at Corrin, which started a chain of chaos.

Hans, who had been hiding somewhere, biding his time on the Nohrian cliffs, leapt into action, scattering Hoshidans. None fell off, fortunately, but they weren't his targets. Rinkah attacked Hans, wrestling him down. One Hoshidan soldier, however, was pushed into Camilla's flight path her, causing her to fumble and instead crash into Corrin. Kaze stabbed both Jakob and Gunter with a shuriken, coated in a sedative poison he'd concocted.

The planks under Corrin shattered with the jolt, and she fell into the Canyon. A blue blur sped after her, just as Rinkah managed to overpower Hans.

Camilla, knocked unconscious by the spear end of the soldier she'd crashed into, also fell off the bridge, saved only by her wyvern, who carried her over to four figures on the Nohrian cliffs.

The Hoshidan soldiers, with Rinkah and Kaze, tried to carry the unconscious Hans, Gunter and Jakob across to Omozu and I, leading Gunter's horse too.

They were almost across when suddenly, one of the figures over on the Nohrian side made the bridge explode with a spell.

Kaze and Rinkah managed to get to safety, Eldegai and I pulling them to the surface. Some of the Hoshidan soldiers weren't so lucky.

When the smoke cleared, the figures across the canyon had vanished. Corrin had fallen into the canyon, as had, it turned out, Araksi, Gunter and Hans. Gunter's horse was here, but it bolted off before anyone could stop it.

"Is... Is everybody...?" Omozu was asking, tending to his severely wounded soldiers.

After a few minutes, he began leading his soldiers back to the fort. Rinkah was helping to carry the unconscious ones, including the captured Jakob – and the dead ones. Kaze was consoling Eldegai, who was crying over Araksi, and other Hoshidans mourning their friends.

I stood, forgotten by the rest – I wasn't injured, or in need of help, and I wasn't really one of them. Maybe they blamed me, because this had been my plan. And it had gone wrong.

My plans had always been to prioritise diplomacy over violence. Hans's violent nature, and instructions to instigate the fighting, had of course, meant that our first attempts at peace would be mostly useless. The battle was inevitable. However...

I had known from the game that if Corrin got a chance to use her magical royal blood powers, this battle would be over in an instant. There was nothing we could really do to counter that. That was why I'd convinced Omozu to offer the fort in exchange for Princess Corrin as a prisoner.

Because capturing her was a priority. Jakob, Gunter and especially Hans could be disposed of if necessary, but capturing them was much more preferable.

That left Princess Camilla, and the rest of Princess Corrin's Nohrian siblings. In the game, they had come along in secret, and helped Corrin escape. However, in that escape, Hans would reveal he had one final job, and try to kill Gunter. Hans would get away, but Gunter and Princess Corrin were supposed to fall into the Bottomless Canyon.

And then... something else was supposed to happen. Where was it? Where? When?

I stared into the Canyon, until finally a noise behind me made me turn.

A circle of energy, about ten feet in diameter, opened, and a small blue creature flew out. It was about the size of an average dog, and it resembled a cross between a fish and a squirrel.

Princess Corrin herself emerged from the portal, looking no worse for wear. She hadn't noticed me yet, instead talking to the blue creature.

"Ah... we're back. But... where is everyone?"

Princess Corrin and the creature noticed me then. The creature's eyes widened, and it turned back to the portal as though to flee back into it.

"Wait!" I said, "L-Lilith!"

It paused, and turned back to me, then spoke, its voice female and gentle, "You know my name?"

I nodded and raised Jake up.

"What is that? Who are you?" Princess Corrin asked curiously.

"It's... my father's," Lilith answered, sadly.

"Princess Corrin... there are people you need to meet," I said.

Princess Corrin shook her head, "No. I have to know if my friends are okay."

I paused, then nodded at her, "Right... To the fort, then."

...

A/N: Short chapter because it's just the Journey Begins chapter battle and what follows... isn't?

Anyway yeah I tried to do a chaotic battle here but it might have come off more as rushed. Not sure. And I realise that me not showing the plans for the battles beforehand might be frustrating. But I've been omitting things all along so that I can reveal them as surprises later. And I wanted this to seem more like a trial by fire for my character.


End file.
